


Healing Hurt

by AppleScruff



Series: By Your Side [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleScruff/pseuds/AppleScruff
Summary: How do you deal with the choices you’ve made, when those choice resulted in the death of a loved one.Do you let them poison your mind into pushing your loved ones you have left away or will you pull them closer?A tale of guilt, forgiveness and friendship. Of trying to move on after a great loss.Maybe healing doesn’t have to be a lonely journey.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long wait but here it finally is, the sequel to Calm Under The Waves

It’s the dream again –  or rather the nightmare – the one Demi gets almost every night. It always seems so real, like she’s back in the train again, at the mercy of the masked men.

She’s running through the corridor of the train, trying to outrun the footsteps sounding behind her. Her legs hurt and her heart is beating out of her chest, but she has to keep running, she has to get away. They can’t get their hands on her, she knows what they’ll do to her if they do.

They are yelling at her, taunting her with their laughs and their calls that she can’t escape them. Their voices sound so close, like they’re right behind her but she doesn’t dare look back. It will slow her down if she does  and she can’t take that risk.

The train seems to go on forever as she runs, one empty coach after another passing her by. There is no one there to help her, no one to maybe help her hide. She’s all alone with her attackers, whose footsteps sound even closer than before.

Suddenly, a hand grabs her. Demi can feel the icy fingers wrap themselves around her upper arm, pulling her backwards. They’ve caught her. They always catch her, no matter how hard she tries to get away.

Fear grabs a hold of Demi’s heart, sinking icy fingers into the vital organ. The cold spreads throughout her whole body as she tries to escape the strong hold of her attacker. She tries to pull free, kicks behind her in the hope she’ll hit the man standing behind her.  But then, suddenly, there are more hands holding her. They are hauling her backwards and pressing her down to the ground. She still struggles with tears running down her cheeks but it’s to no avail. The men with their faces hidden behind ski masks, don’t even flinch as start to tug on her clothes.

With her clothes drenched in sweat and tears running down her face, Demi wakes up. The dark room greets her as her eyes shoot open. There’s a clock, softly ticking to her left. The only other sound in the room are the snores coming from the body lying beside her.

Demi tries to be as silent as possible as she slips out of the bed – she doesn’t want to disturb Niall, who’s sleeping beside her. He’s sleeping so peacefully, unlike last night or the night before. Demi isn’t the only one with nightmares, Niall has them as well. There are nights when he wakes up Demi, screaming her name followed by the promise he’s coming. It had broken Demi’s heart the first time she heard it.

Holding her breath for a few beats, Demi observes Niall turning his head around but other than that, he doesn’t react to suddenly being alone in the bed. He’s still deep in sleep.

Demi breaths out again. Her heart constricts as she looks at her boyfriend lying peacefully in the bed. Even though it’s dark, she can clearly see his face. There are no worry lines around his eyes – they were there during the day, yesterday. His mouth isn’t set in a thin red line or pulled into a frown. For the moment, he looks again like the boy he was before all the bad things happened, before he lost one of his best mates.

With a sigh, Demi turns away from her boyfriend and walks with soundless steps towards the bedroom door. When she opens it, there is no sound and neither is there when she closes it again.

Tea always helps her calm down, so Demi heads straight to the kitchen. Her bare feet patter over the hardwood floor unto the cold tiles until she stops in front of the stove. The kettle is still filled with water from the last time she made tea, just after dinner a few hours ago.

When she has turn on the fire, Demi walks towards the cupboard where they keep the glasses and cups. She tries her best to be as silent as possible as she pulls out one the cups. She succeeds in making almost no sound.

Demi walks towards the other side of the small kitchen with the white cup in her hand and stops in front of another cupboard. She pulls it open and takes a teabag out of one of the small, rectangular boxes inside. The brunette puts the teabag inside her cup and walks back to the kettle. Now she has to wait for it to start whistling.

As Demi waits, her thoughts start to wonder. They wonder to all the things that have happened after the hijack, after Louis died. The boys had been so heartbroken. Niall had told Demi that it felt like part of him was gone. Louis had been like a cool older brother to him, someone who he could always laugh with because they had the same kind of humor. But now his older brother was gone. He was ripped away from him and he had taken a part of Niall with him.

They had cried together when Niall had told Demi this. They had held each other and let the tears run free because Demi was heartbroken too. She lost a friend too. She may have not been as close to Louis as Niall or his band members, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel his loss too. She cared for him too and she missed him, still does.

The fans had been devastated too. There had been silent wakes all over the world when the news broke. Thousand of boys and girls were interviewed with tears in their eyes, some of them hysterical while others only crying silently. All of them had told the interviewer how much they loved Louis, how much he and the boys meant to them. The heartbreak had been clearly visible on their faces, along with the pity they felt for Louis’s family and band mates.

It hadn’t surprised no one when the boys announced they were going to take a break. They told the fans in an official announcement that they needed time to deal with their loss as well as recover from what happened during the train hijack. One Direction was going to be on hold for a while.

The announcement had been taken in stride. Some fans had even told the boys they were happy they were finally taking a break but that they were sorry it had to be under such circumstances. They could take all the time they needed, they still loved them.

Demi had heard almost the same from her fans. Her Lovatics had always been so understanding and this time it isn’t any different. She received letter after letter that told her to take the time she needed to heal and not worry about them. All they wanted from her was to remain strong, the way she’s always been.

As she thinks about the faith her fans have in her, her stomach turns with guilt. She isn’t as strong as her fans think she is. They think she’s slowly healing, building herself back up from the inside but nothing is farther from the truth.

She’s crumbling, falling apart from the inside. The blackness she thought she had shaken three years ago, is back and has made its home inside her head and heart again. She feels weak, vulnerable and she hates the feeling.

Suddenly, the sound of the kettle whistling shakes Demi from her thoughts. She almost jumps a feet in the air with the shock of the sudden sound, her heart beating painfully quick.

This isn’t the first time an unexpected sounds has caused Demi to lose her bearing. Ever since the hijack, sounds have had these effects on her. She spilled all of her scalding hot coffee over her chest  three weeks ago when the loud sound of door closing in the apartment had taken her by surprise. She had to go to the emergency room with Niall to get fixed up.

Demi quickly makes her way over to the kettle, switches the fire off immediately so the whistling will stop and she won’t wake up her boyfriend by accident.

At first, Demi thinks she has been successful but then while she’s pouring the hot water into her cup, she hears shuffling footsteps coming from the living room behind her.

“Demi?” a soft voice asks as she turns around with the hot cup in her hands. Her eyes fall on the figure walking with quick steps towards her.

Niall’s blonde hair is tussled and there are sleep lines on his face, where he had pressed down on the duvet. There are bags under his eyes, dark and hard to miss. He is dressed in baggy trousers and an equally baggy shirt. It’s painful to see how many younger he looks.

“Did I wake you?” Demi asks in a soft voice. “I tried to be as quiet as possible.”

Running a hand through his hair, Niall walks into the kitchen area. He looks agitated, his mouth a thin red line and his eyes never leaving Demi’s face.

“Please, don’t do that again,” Niall pleads as he come to a standstill in front of a surprised Demi. He moves his hand towards her upper arm but stops himself halfway, for which Demi is thankful. She doesn’t know how she would have reacted to him grabbing her like that, especially after her nightmare.

“What?” Demi asks, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Disappearing,” Niall explains. His voice sounds strained and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. “You weren’t there when I woke up. You scared me.”

Demi can understand why her boyfriend is being so paranoid. He has always been protective over her, with what happened to her six months ago it isn’t a surprise it has shifted into high gear. She understand why he was so worried when she wasn’t lying next to him when he woke up.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Demi apologizes. There is a unpleasant knot in her stomach as she blows over the surface of the tea in her cup before taking a careful sip. The beverage is still too hot to drink. “I’m sorry.”

“Just leave a note next time, or something.” Niall tries to smile, probably sensing he’s making Demi feel uncomfortable. “That way, I know where you are.”

“I’ll do that next time,” Demi promises with a smile of her own. “Do you want some tea as well? I’ve made some.”

“Sure.” Niall sighs as he runs a hand through his hair again. There is no longer tension visible in his body as his shoulders slump forward. “But, can we hug first?” 

“Of course,” Demi reassures her boyfriend, even though she wants to say she rather doesn’t. She knows Niall needs a hug right now; he needs reassurance to reassure himself that Demi is alive and well. She’s going to have to set aside her fears for now.

She can’t however, stop her body from tensing up once again when Niall puts his arms around her. His nearness is enough to send her heart racing and not in a good way.

Niall feels the tremors running through her body and he whispers into her ear that it’s going to be alright. He’s not going to hurt her, he loves her. All the things she knows but she needs to be reminded of.

This is why Demi feels weak. She’s not even able to set aside her own problems to help Niall with his. She can’t be there for him when he needs her to. Because she’s afraid of him. She’s afraid of the boy she loves, because she isn’t strong enough.


	2. 2

The man sitting in front of Zayn is dressed in khaki jeans and a dress shirt. His hair is a wild red and his whole face is covered in freckles. The black frame of his glasses is a stark contrast to the older male’s pale face.

He is looking at Zayn, his eyes sharp but friendly at the same time. His eyes shine with a polite curiosity, which is no doubt in the job subscription, the dark-haired boy reckons. How else do you get people to tell you their darkest secrets? People only confide in others when they can be trusted and are interested to hear your story. Then there’s also the friendly smile beneath the eyes that tells you, that you won’t be judged.

“Are you ready to talk today?” the man asks. He has a soft voice, a contrast to the hard lines in his face. There is grey stubble on his cheeks, which is most likely a fashion statement rather than the result of laziness.

“Haven’t we been talking these past two months? “ Zayn asks, even though he knows very well what the other male is talking about? “Or was that just my imagination.”

When Zayn had started these therapy sessions he had thought they were arranged by management to assess how much their most valuable possession was damaged. In silent protest, he hadn’t said anything to the therapist his management had assigned him to. After weeks of silently sitting opposite each other, Tom the therapist, had asked why he wasn’t saying anything. When Zayn had told him the truth after another couple of session, the older male had told him his suspicions were false. He wasn’t there to assess how much of a trauma he had, he was there to help Zayn deal with what happened with him and his friends on the train. The session were for his benefit, not management’s.

The red-haired male doesn’t rise to the bait, instead he keeps smiling and says, “We have, but not about your bandmate’s death. The reason why we’re having these conversations.”

“Can’t we talk about my nightmares instead?” Zayn asks, one eyebrow raised. His lips are pursed in a way that makes it look like he’s pouting.

 “Yes we can but we can also try to prevent them. Talking about what happened to your friend might help them go away.”

Zayn wanders if Harry has talked about Louis with Tom yet. He suspects he has because Harry always lives with his heart on his sleeve and he isn’t bothered by talking about his feelings, like Zayn is. He could see Harry confide in their therapist within two sessions. From all of his four best friends, Harry was most likely to start sharing first.

“I don’t think I’m ready,” Zayn admits. His eyes travel to his hands that are lying in his lap. He starts twirling his fingers as a shadow of sadness crosses over his face. Even thinking about talking about Louis’s death sends a wave of painful sorrow through his whole body.

“It will never stop being painful,” Tom tells Zayn. He hears the chair squeak as the therapist changes his position on the wooden furniture. “Talking about it helps, though. Sharing it with someone might ease the pain a little.”

Zayn really doubts talking about it will help. The pain inside his chest as far too consuming, too constant to be soothed by such a weak remedy. How can talking about losing Louis like that stop the guilt from consuming him alive? It won’t bring Louis back or erase all the awful things that happened on the train.  Talking about how he did nothing while Demi was being raped or when Louis tried to wrestle the boss of the hijackers for his gun, won’t stop him feeling sick at how much of a coward he was.

“How can it–.” Zayn swallows as tears well up in his eyes. He tries his best to stop them from falling but it seems it can’t be helped. He’s going to leave today’s session with red-rimmed eyes from crying. “How can talk about it possibly make the pain less? How can–. Louis is still going to be dead, isn’t he?” The last part is said with a slightly raised voice.

“Do you blame yourself for his death?” Tom asks softly, ignoring Zayn’s harsh tone.

The older male’s calmness gets on Zayn’s nerve. It’s easy for Tom to talk. He hasn’t just lost one of his best friends, there’s no way he knows how Zayn is feeling right now. And yet here he is, asking such an awful question and he accepts Zayn to just answer it.

“What kind of question is that?” Zayn asks angrily. He raises his head and looks at his therapist with narrowed eyes.

“Most survivors blame themselves when their loved ones die,” Tom goes on to explain. He doesn’t seem faced by Zayn’s anger, probably being faced by angry patients on a daily basis. “They think they should have done more to safe them. Do you feel like you should have done more to safe Louis.”

“Of course I do,” Zayn yells, tears now falling freely down his cheeks. His whole posture shows how angry he is, his eyes are shining with anger, his fist are balled into fists and he’s sitting at the edge of his chair. “Of course I should have done more. I should have tried to help Louis. We could have overpowered the fucking creep if I just helped him!”

“Both of you probably would have died if you did,” Tom calmly replies to Zayn assumptions. “He could have shut you both if you tried to help Louis. Or more likely, one of the other hijackers would have killed you before you would’ve reached them.”

“You don’t know that,” Zayn denies while shaking his head rapidly. “You don’t–. That is not true. I could have saved them, if I wasn’t such a fucking coward.”

“You’re not a coward. You’re human. There were men with guns, they threatened to harm you. It’s completely normal to be afraid in such a situation.”

“Can you say that to Demi? Can you say to her that it’s completely normal that I didn’t stop the fucking pervert from raping her? I let him rape her!” Zayn is screaming now. “I let my friend’s girlfriend fucking get raped because someone threaten me he would shoot me in the fucking leg. Not in my head, no my fucking leg. There’s no fucking excuse for that!”

“You were scared Zayn. A shut wound in the leg may not be fetal, but it still hurts.”

“Of course it fucking hurts but getting raped hurts more. A shut wound heals, but getting raped–. People say you never recover from something like that.”

Zayn jumps up from his chair and he starts to pace the room. Tom’s eyes follow him as he walks from left to right and back, posture relaxed even with an agitated nineteen-year-old in the room.

“Say, if you did try to save Demi and you were shut in the leg, what do you think would have happened?”

Zayn comes to a standstill behind the previously occupied chair, the therapist's question taking him by surprise. He slowly turns towards the older male.

The anger in Zayn’s eyes is replaced with grief, the scowl that had adorned his lips only a few seconds ago now pulled into a thin line of regret.

“She would still have been raped,” Tom answers for Zayn, as he doesn’t answer for a couple of minutes. “But you would’ve been wounded as well.”

“Well, at least I would have tried,” Zayn fires back, his voice broken and weak. He lays his hands on the back of the chair and hangs his head, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “I wouldn’t have felt so guilty, so disgusted with myself.”


	3. 3

The clock on the nightstand ticks away the minutes while Liam lies awake. His brown eyes are trained on the figure lying next to him between the crisp white sheets. A head is the only thing visible. Liam has been staring at it for the past two hours, ever since he and Zayn have gone to bed. Zayn has fallen asleep an hour ago.

Liam knows he should go to sleep as well, but he can’t bring himself to. He wants to watch over his boyfriend a little while longer. He wants to watch him until he can’t fight sleep anymore and his eyes fall shut.

The sheets ruffle as Zayn turns around and lies his head back down on the pillow. There are creases in his forehead and his eyes are scrunched up. Pain is clearly visible on his face and it is a knife to the heart for Liam. Zayn is having his nightmare again, the one which he won’t talk about with Liam but which he can guess must have something to do with seeing Louis being shot in front of his eyes.

Just thinking about Zayn, sweet, sensitive Zayn, having to witness something that horrible breaks Liam’s heart. It makes his whole chest ache with the pain. Liam can’t begin to imagine how his boyfriend must be feeling or what Harry or Demi must be feeling for that matter.

All he knows his how helpless it makes him feel. Liam has always felt very protective of the boys and knowing he has failed to do so makes him so angry. It makes him want to hit himself, tear his hair out and scream until his lunges are sore. Liam has never hated himself before but now he does.

Because it had been Louis, trying to safe Harry, not Liam. It had been Louis who took care of him and Niall when the hijackers attacked and taunted them. Louis had been the one who had been the one who protected him and the boys and now he’s dead because of it.

The guilt eats away at him every day. Every day that he sees Harry slowly falling apart, sees Zayn close off from the rest of the world as nightmares plague him every night, sees Niall be over protective over Demi while she flinches away when he comes too close, the destructive emotion tears him down even farther.

Liam wants to fix everyone so badly. He wants to be the one who helps Harry move on, the one who fixes Niall and Demi’s relationship and who helps chase Zayn’s problems away. Maybe if he can, he somehow can repay Louis for what he’s done for Liam.

Tears start to flow as Liam closes his eyes for a second. The face of Louis, hovering over his own face as Liam’s wounded head is laying in his lap, is conjured up in his head. He can still hear his voice, telling Liam that he was going to be alright. It was just a shallow head wound, there was no real damage.

A sob escapes Liam before he can stop the sound. His body convulses as the bed rocks with the movement. It doesn’t wake Zayn up. He’s still a heavy sleeper even after all that has happened. Liam has never been more thankful for this.

So, Liam lets the tears run freely. There’s no need to hide his pain when there’s no one to see it. He doesn’t try to silence the sobs either. It feels good letting go for once. He hasn’t cried properly since they had been rescued from the train and he had heard Louis had been shot.

Zayn hasn’t really cried either. There had been tears, but he almost never has let the rest of his body join in. It has almost always been silent crying.

He doesn’t talk about his session with Tom, the psychiatrist, either – not even today when he had come home clearly distressed. Liam had tried to ask what happened, but Zayn had just muttered that Tom was an asshole who didn’t understand anything. He had told Zayn that _he_ might understand, but the older boy had just dismissed him with a ‘no, you don’t.’

Suddenly, Liam’s phone rings. He immediately grabs it from where it’s laying on the bedside table and looks at the screen, trying to see who’s calling through the haze of his tears. His heart jumps into his throat when he sees it’s Harry.

Liam scrambles to sit upright as he unlocks the screen to answer the phone. As he puts the device to his ears, he rubs his eyes with his free hand to stop the tears from falling.

“Harry?” Liam asks carefully, fear clearly audible in his voice.

“Am I speaking with Liam Payne?” an unfamiliar voice asks.

“Yes, who is this?”

“It’s Johnny. I’m a bartender at the Moonshine. Your friend Harry was involved in a bar fight. You’re listed as his emergency contact.”

“Shit, is he alright?” Liam asks, voice anxious and hurried. His knuckles turn white as his hands grip the phone even tighter.

“He’s as good as can be expected. He just has some cuts and bruises. As far as I can tell, he hasn’t broken anything. But I still think you should come to collect him, your friend is a little too agitated to walk the streets alone. He’s going to attack someone else if there isn't someone to stop him.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Liam tells the bar tender. He knows where the bar is, it’s just around the corner. He moves to disconnect the phone but he stops himself quickly. Putting the phone back to his ear he murmurs into the receiver “Thank you.” 

“No problem,” Johnny replies.

Liam lays the phone back on the night stand and moves to get out of the bed. A soft, sleep-ridden voice stops him midway. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to get Harry,” Liam replies as he turns around to look at his boyfriend. There is no pain written on his face anymore, now that he’s woken up. The sight of the dark, ruffled locks tug at Liam’s heartstrings. Zayn always looks adorable when he’s just woken up. “He’s been involved in a bar fight that he has started, at least that’s what I got from the story the bar man told me.”

“What?” Zayn exclaims, eyes growing to twice their size.

“It’s alright,” Liam assures his boyfriend. He smiles at him in the hope it’ll stop him from freaking out. “He’s not too badly hurt. He just has a couple of cuts and bruises. You can go back to sleep.”

With that, Liam stands up from the bed and walks towards the chair his clothes are laying on. As he puts on his pants he’s surprised to see Zayn walk to his chair.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” is Zayn’s sarcastic reply. He looks at Liam with an arched eyebrow as he puts on his own pants. “I’m coming with you. I’m not going back to sleep when Harry is wounded and needs our help.”

“But Zayn, you were just sleeping and…” Liam protests but Zayn interrupts him.

“Liam, it’s alright,” he says with a gentle yet determent voice. His eyes are soft but show there’s no room for discussion. “We’re going to get Harry, tuck him in and then go back to sleep. You don’t have to worry about me, babe. I’m going to get enough sleep.”

It always makes Liam feel all warm inside how well Zayn knows him, and this time is no excpetion. Liam has never voiced his concerns about Zayn’s lack of sleep but he still knows he worries Zayn doesn’t get enough sleep.

“If you’re sure…” Liam trails off.

“Yes, I am,” Zayn answers, his lips pulled into a smile.

When Zayn and Liam walk into the bar, there is nothing in the room that tells them there’s been a  bar brawl. No tables turned on their side or broken glass on the floor. There are only stains on the stone floor that could’ve been easily caused by a clumsy waitress if it wasn’t for their large number.

There are a few customers who stare at the two pop stars as they make their way over to the bar. Behind it stands a blonde bloke who has a cut just above his eyebrow. He must have been involved with the fight as well.

“We’re looking for Johnny,” Liam tells the blonde boy.

“That’s me,” he answers with a sigh. He takes a step back and walks towards the side of the bar. Zayn and Liam follow him.  “Harry is in the back. Come with me.”

Johnny leads the two boyfriends to the other side of the bar and into a small room  with four lockers and a small bench. On the small bench, the sleeping figure of Harry is perched.

“He fell asleep the minute I brought him here,” the bar tender explains as they walk towards the bench. “It’s the only reason I left him alone here.”

Liam kneels down and starts shaking him. “Harry, wake up. We’re here to bring you home.”

“Leave me alone,” Harry mutters, apparently not as asleep as they thought. “I don’t want to go home.”

“You can’t stay here, Hazza,” Liam tries to reason with Harry.

“I can and I gonna,” Harry stubbornly replies. He has opened his eyes and he’s looking angrily at Liam. “I’m going to stay here and drink until there’s nothing left and then I’ll go to another bar.”

“Harry, the bars are going to close soon, this one too. It’s time to go home.” Liam can’t stop himself from cringing inwardly as he adds. “You can go drinking again tomorrow.”

Harry gives in with a sigh and a pursing of his lips. “Alright, have it your way. I’ll go home with you.”


	4. 4

“We should get him help,” Zayn tells Liam as they walk back into their apartment.

The room is dark, so it takes a few seconds before Liam is able to find the light switch. The sudden assault of light to his eyes causes him the blink a few times as he walks back towards Zayn. The older boy had walked in after Liam.

Liam and Zayn have tugged Harry in a few minutes ago, back in his own apartment. The younger boy had been only half conscious when they took off his clothes and laid him down on the bed. He had murmured with a tongue heavy with alcohol Louis’s name and had asked him why he had left him. Why had he abounded him? It had broken Zayn’s heart.

After they had undressed him – it hadn’t taken long because they’ve had a lot of practice over the years – Liam had disinfected Harry’s wounds. He sterilized every single cut on Harry’s hands, arms and face with alcohol. Harry had fallen asleep before, while they had undressed him, so he hadn’t complained about the way it stung.

Before they left the apartment, they left behind a glass of water and a painkiller that Harry could take in the morning, when he would wake up with a pounding headache.

“This can’t go on any longer. What if he ends up in a ditch somewhere next time,” Zayn goes on as he runs his hand through his hair. He walks towards the couch and sits down on it.

Liam sits down next to his boyfriend and puts his arm around the dark boy’s hunched shoulders. The older boy leans against his broad chest and lays his head on his shoulder. He mumbles into the fabric of Liam’s shirt, “I’m worried about him, Li. What if he gets into a fight again and there is no friendly bartender to stop him? Or what if he’s so drunk he walks unto the street and gets hit by a car? He’s gone through so much already, I don’t want him to get hurt even more.”

“I know, babe. I’m worried about Harry too,” Liam admits. He’s running his head up and down Zayn’s arm in the hope that it will takes some of the tension out of Zayn’s muscles. “He needs help. He’s really drinking too much. Talking to a therapist isn’t helping enough apparently.”

Zayn entangles himself from Liam’s embrace, stands up from the couch and starts pacing the room. His eyes are trained on his black shoes as he walks back and forth. He’s running his hand through his hair again, making it stick out in all angles. His lips aren’t safe either. He’s worrying them with his teeth the way he always does when he’s anxious, making them red and puffy.

“We’re going to need to ask Tom for help. He’ll know what we have to do,” Zayn murmurs as Liam’s eyes follow his movements. “Then we need to tell Harry…”

“I know what we have to do,” Liam interrupts his boyfriend. Zayn’s head shoots up and his eyes focus on the younger boy’s face as he stops pacing.  “We have to send Harry to rehab.”

“No, we don’t,” Zayn denies as he shakes his head. His eyes are trained on Liam’s as they shine with a fire Liam recognizes from knowing his boyfriend for so long. Zayn has a plan and he’ll do anything for Liam to go along with it. Liam’s a bit worried because apparently, this plan doesn’t involve their therapist Tom.  “Harry doesn’t need to go to rehab. We can help him ourselves.”

It is as Liam feared, Zayn’s idea is a very bad idea. There’s no way him and the boys can help Harry without professional help. “Babe, I don’t think we can. We don’t know how…”

“Like I said, we can ask Tom for help. He’ll give us advice on how we can best help Harry,” Zayn answers back. He turns his whole body towards Liam while the fire in his eyes grows more intense. “We can do this, Liam. I really believe we can.”

“You may believe so, but I know Tom won’t.  He’s going to tell us we need to convince Harry to go to rehab.” Liam feels helpless as he tries to make his boyfriend understand. He wants to tear his hairs out at the feeling. “We’ve found Harry in a pool of his own vomit more times than I can count and he has been in bar fights at least as many times. Harry is too far gone. He needs more help then we could ever give him.”

“So, you say we should just hand him over to people who don’t care about him,” Zayn growls. The fire in his yes has turned from one of passion into one of rage. His hands are now balled into fists. “They don’t give two shits about him or what he’s going through. We’re the ones who at least understand some of it, not them. They know nothing.”

It takes Liam by surprise how angry Zayn looks. His eyes are clouded over with anger, his hands are clinched into fists, his mouth is a thin red line and his body is thrumming with the need to punch Liam. He hates seeing his boyfriend like this.

“They know how to deal with an addiction. We don’t,” Liam tries to reason with Zayn.

“I know how to deal with an addiction,” Zayn protests.

“Yeah, how to deal to maintain one, not how to beat it.” Liam hates doing this – saying something that may potentially hurt Zayn – but he knows he has to if he wants his boyfriend to see reason. “You’re still addicted to smoking, even though you promised to quite for years now.”

“That’s a low blow, Liam, and you know it,” Zayn spits out. He turns his back to Liam and stalks towards the chair he threw his coat on a few minutes ago.

“Zayn, what are you….”

“I’m going for a walk,” Zayn snaps at Liam without turning around. He grabs his coat and walks towards the door. “I can’t be around you, right now.”

“Zayn, please don’t,” Liam pleads with his boyfriend. “It’s late and it’s cold. You’ll freeze you’re ass off out there.”

“That’s why I’m taking my coat,” Zayn shots back as he opens the door. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Zayn, please.” Liam cringes on the inside at how pathetic he sounds.

Zayn must think the same – Liam can see it by the tensioning of Zayn’s shoulders – but it hasn’t enough to convince him to stay apparently because he doesn’t stop. The door falls closed with a soft click.

Tears start to flow as Liam lays his head in his hands. He feels his heart break a little because Zayn has walked out even after Liam pleaded him to stay. It hurts that his desperation wasn’t enough for the older boy to stay. Doesn’t he care anymore if Liam’s hurting? Liam doesn’t know because he hasn’t been able to read Zayn the way he used to for months.

Ever since the hijack, Zayn has been very closed-off, even towards Liam. He won’t talk about his therapy sessions or how he’s feeling, the way he used to. Now all he says when Liam asks him how he’s doing is that he’s fine. He doesn’t even tell Liam about the nightmares that keep him up at night.

And now they’re fighting and it hurts more than it did in the past, now they’re hurting each other in a way they haven’t in the past. Liam with his words and Zayn by walking out on Liam. They’ve never done that before during their fights. And all because they want to help Harry but can’t agree on how to. They both care for Harry, he’s the band mate and best friend of both of them, but their opinions differ on how to be a good one.

Liam wonders how Niall and Demi think about the situation, temporarily stopping the tears from falling as he starts to think . They too have a say in how they’re going to try to help Harry, they’re his friends too after all. Would Niall agree with Zayn or with Liam? If Niall agrees with Liam, maybe he can help Liam convince Zayn to choose Liam’s side as well.

Which side Demi would chose isn’t difficult to guess. She’s going to agree with Liam because she herself has experienced the benefits of rehab and she’s been advocating getting professional help ever since.

Maybe he’s going to pay his friends a visit tomorrow.


	5. 5

Liam knows he shouldn’t, but he goes to Niall and Demi’s apartment for help the next day. Maybe if Niall and Demi side with him, Zayn will listen to him. He hates going behind his boyfriend’s back, but he has no other choice.

When Liam knocks on the door, it takes a few minutes before it’s opened. At first, Niall doesn’t seem too happy to see him – apparently having woken him from sleep if his bed hair is any indication – but after a beat, a small smile appears on his face.

“Liam, what are you doing here so early?,” Niall asks, his voice slow and deep from sleep. He scratches his head as he shifts from one leg to the other.

Niall nightmare’s must have kept him awake, if Niall thinks it’s early. It’s one in the afternoon and Liam has been up for a few hours already. Sleep had come quick after Liam had fought with Zayn, for some reason. Having the argument must have drained him from all the energy he had still left.

“I need to speak to you and Demi,” Liam tells Niall. “It’s urgent.”

Niall lets out a sigh, having resigned his band mate isn’t going to leave. He opens the door further and steps aside so Liam can walk inside.

When Liam walks into the apartment, he’s hit by a wall of heat. Demi and Niall have turned the heating way up high, which makes the apartment much hotter than the cold corridor.

Demi is sitting at the dinner table. There is a plate with a sandwich on it in front of her as well as a glass of milk. Her eyes are on Liam as he walks into the apartment. She gives him a friendly smile that doesn’t really reach her eyes.

For a second, Liam wonders of the brunette is mad at him. Maybe she thinks Liam should have protected her and the boys better because hadn’t he told her he cared for them and would do anything to protect them? Maybe she blames him for what happened to her.

The first time Liam had apologized to her was the day after the train hijack – tears streaming down his face and her hands being held gently in his –  she had told him he shouldn’t blame himself, tears of her own making her voice crack. There was nothing he could have done, he would have been wounded himself. Besides, he couldn’t have known that would actually go through with their threat. She didn’t blame him and never would.

Despite her words, though, Liam does believe she blames him, even if it’s only on a subconscious level. He can see it in the way she looks at him or the way she’s smiling right now, forced and unwelcome.

“What do you want to talk to me about?” Demi asks as Liam sits down on the chair opposite her. She laces her fingers together as she props her elbows on the table and leans her chin on her hands. Niall sits down next to her.

“It’s about Harry. Like you might have noticed, he has a little of a drinking problem.”

Demi closes her eyes and nods her head. “Yeah, I did. I’m glad you brought it up. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it.” Demi opens her eyes again and looks Liam straight in the eyes. “I think he needs help before things get even worse. We need to get him help.”

It doesn’t really come as surprise that Demi thinks rehab is the answer to Harry’s problems. She herself has been to one and have sworn by them ever since. Every time an interviewer asked her what a girl with a problem should do, she’d say they should tell their family and ask for professional help.

It’s the reason why Liam has come to her and Niall for help. He hopes Demi will be able to help him convince Zayn that going to rehab is what’s best for Harry. They can’t help him on their own, no matter how bad they want to.

What Liam wouldn’t give to be able to help Harry himself. Maybe if he could help him quite, Liam would’ve have paid the heavy debt that Louis had placed on his shoulders. Louis had taken care of him when he had been vulnerable and hurt and Liam would have done the same with Harry.

But this isn’t the case. They can’t help him on their own. The doctors and psychiatrists at the rehab are the only ones who can fix Harry – as fixed as he can possibly be after Louis’s death. If they don’t, thinks will only get worse and Zayn needs to see that.

"I think so too," Liam tells Demi. "But Zayn doesn't agree with me."

Demi eyes go wide in surprise. "Why doesn't he?"

"He agrees Harry need help but he thinks we should do it ourselves," Liam explains. He worries his bottom lip as his eyes move from Demi's face to Niall's face and back. "He thinks Tom telling us what to do will be enough. According to him, Harry need his friends around him, not some 'stupid professionals who don't care about him'. His words, not mine. That's one of the reasons why I came to you guys. Demi, I need you to let Zayn see it's for the best that Harry goes to rehab."

"I understand," Demi mutters as she nods her head. "I'll try to talk to him."

"Thank you." Liam lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "I hate going behind his back like this, but I thought this was the best way. You have knowledge about things like this, I think he'll listen to you."

"I think Zayn's right, though," Niall says, much to both Demi's and Liam's surprise. The blonde Irish boy looks at them with eyes that have a fire in them that Liam can't identify. He has his arms crossed over his chest as he continues. "We should try to help Harry ourselves. We have more of a change letting Harry see he has a problem than all those people working in the rehab who don't know him or care about him."

"Niall, people in rehab _do_ care about their patients, they work there because they want to help people," Demi  protests. She has turned her whole body in Niall's direction as her eyes roam over his face. If Liam's not mistaken, there are tears in the corners of her eyes. "And they know more about how to help Harry then we ever could. We're ill equipped to handle this situation."

"If psychiatrist are such miracle workers, how is it than that those stupid talks with Tom don't help shit?" Niall throws back, his voice slightly raised. There's no anger in his eyes, however, only helplessness.

"I don't know, Ni," Demi answers in all honesty. She runs a hand through her hair before adding,"Have you told Tom the talks aren't working?"

Niall's chest deflates as he lets out a sigh. "No, I haven't. Would it matter if I did?" 

"Yes, it would. You should tell him next time," Demi advices her boyfriend. She leans a bit forward as she takes his hand into hers. "If you tell Tom the therapy isn't helping you, he'll suggest to try something different. Because, Niall, he _does_ care about you and he wants you to get better."

The white hot feeling of guilt spreads through Liam’s chest, making it very unpleasant to breath. How come he didn’t know Niall was having problems with this therapy sessions. Hadn’t he made a promise to himself he would look after the rest of the boys and would help them whenever they needed it? Niall had needed his help but Liam hadn’t noticed, too preoccupied with helping Zayn with his nightmares and worrying about Harry’s drinking problems.

He really is good for nothing.


	6. 6

"I still think we should be trying this ourselves," Zayn mutters. His mouth is sat in a thin line and he's pointedly not looking at Liam, who's sitting next to him on the couch. Liam tries his best to not let Zayn's hostility get to him, but he isn't really succeeding.

Zayn still being mad at him, even after they've talked about things, hurts. He had thought they'd settled things yesterday. He had gone back to the apartment after his conversation with Demi and Niall and had told Zayn he wanted to talk to him when he'd come back from checking on Harry again. Liam had told him about the agreement he, Niall and Demi had come to. At first, Zayn had ben mad at him for going behind his back - not as much because he didn't want him to talk with their friends about it but because he did it without him. Liam had apologized and had told him he would never do it again. Zayn told him it was better he didn't.

Things had been good after that. The dark cloud that had hovered over them the first part of the day, had been lifted. But now it's back again. Suddenly, Zayn is angry at Liam again for forcing him into a corner. Because thanks to Liam, Harry is now going to rehab.

After Liam had told Zayn they would let Harry decide on what to do, he had called Harry's mother Anne about what they were planning. Anne hadn't been happy about their decision and had been adamant that her son would seek out  professional help. She knew Liam and the boys meant well, but they couldn't give Harry the help he needed.

Liam had been relieved Anne thought about it like that, not that he told Zayn this. He had told the rest of the boys and Demi about what Anne had told him and Niall had almost immediately given in to Harry's mother's wishes. Anne was one of the closet relatives of Harry, her vote was a veto to all of theirs. Zayn didn't give in that easily and had gone as far as to claim that Anne didn't know what Harry needed. She didn't know him as good as they did. But after a while, he too admitted defeat.

They decided, they should hold the intervention as soon as possible. That's why they're all now, the next day, all gathered in Harry's apartment. Niall and Demi are sitting on the sofa next to the one Liam and Zayn are sitting on. Anne and Gemma have come to London for the intervention as well but they're currently out on a walk with Harry. Harry had easily agreed to it because the visits of his family is the highlight of his day ever since the incident. Liam thinks it's probably because they're a reminder of what his life used to be, before he lost Louis.

Suddenly, the door handle rattles as it’s turned, startling the four boys sitting in the apartment. Harry and his family are back. Liam's heart beats rapidly at the thought that they're going to confront Harry any minute now.

Liam is not looking forward to this moment, not at all. Demi has told him it's going to be a very difficult one. They're going to have to convince Harry that he has a problem and he isn't going to be happy about it. Harry doesn't see he has one, himself, and he's going to be angry at his friends for suggesting he has. The thought of Harry being angry at them has Liam almost blowing everything of. He's going to hurt Harry and he hates hurting the younger boy. He's going to break his promise to himself once again. But he knows he has no other choice, it's the only way to get Harry the help he needs, so all Liam does is watch the door open and take in the surprised look on Harry's face.

"What are you all doing here?" he asks as his mother and sister walk into the apartment after him. They walk past him as he walks towards the couches his friends are sitting on. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. His hair is a mess of curls, the wind having played with it during his walk.

Harry does look a little better now that he's been outside, his cheeks have more color and he looks more relaxed then he has been in days. But Liam knows it's only on the outside, Harry is as broken on the inside as he's been for the past few months. The walk may have put more life into his body but his soul is just as dead as it was before.

"We wanted to talk to you," Demi says. They've anonymously decide to let Demi do the talking. She was the best choice because she has had an intervention of her own, she knows how they work.

"What about?" Harry wants to know. He sits down on the floor in front of the couches, even though there's still room to sit next to Zayn.

"The boys and I are worried about you," Demi explains.

Gemma and Anne join the group, after having put on a kettle for tea. Gemma is standing with crossed arms behind Niall while her mother is standing right next to her. Both women have tears in their eyes.

"Why are you worried?" Harry asks, before a look of realization crosses his face. "This is about my drinking, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Demi admits.

"Well, then you're worried about nothing. I maybe drink more than normal, but that doesn't mean anything. I'm not an alcoholic or somewhat."

"That's where you're wrong, though," Anne butts in. Harry snaps his head in his mother's direction,  hurt flashing in his eyes. She reacts by giving him a reassuring smile. "Demi and the boys told me how much you're drinking. You're really drinking too much. It's almost as much as your Uncle Stefan drinks."

"I'm nothing like Uncle Stefan," Harry shouts out his defense. His eyes flicker with anger and mouth is pulled into a scowl. "He had an alcohol problem, not me."

"Harry, we are you drinking so much?" Demi asks softly, startling Harry into looking at her again.

“Because it tastes good,” Harry fires back. His fingers are rolled up into fists on top of his lap. “That’s why people drink, isn’t it?! Because they like the flavor.”

“Not always, and I don’t think in your case, either.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Harry shouts. He’s no longer angry but pissed.

“I think you’re drinking because Louis is dead. It’s common for men to become alcoholics when they lose someone.” Demi’s voice is a soft as ever as she lays out the naked truth in front of Harry. “It makes them forget.”

“And what’s wrong with that!” Harry spits out. His voice has become unsteady and Liam can see his eyes shine with unshed tears. “What’s wrong with forgetting for a moment you’ve lost the love of your life.”

“It’s wrong because it isn’t healthy,” Demi tries to explain to Harry. She leans forward a bit and looks at Harry with imploring eyes. “You should never try to forget things with either alcohol or drugs. It can kill you.”

“So what if it does?” Harry screams, tears now falling freely down his cheeks. “At least I won’t have to live without Louis anymore.”

A gasp sounds from where Gemma and Anne are standing. When Liam turns his head towards them he sees the identical looks of shock on their faces. Liam probably wears the same expression because even though he knew things were bad with Harry, he didn’t know it was this bad.

“But we would have to live without you,” Gemma exclaims. A tear falls on one of her cheeks as she continues. “Your mother, the boys and I would be feeling what you’re feeling right now. Could you really do that to your band mates, to your family.”

Harry’s curls swipe back and forth as she shakes his head. “No, but I just want the pain to go away.”

“I know you do,” Zayn tells Harry, his voice wobbling. “We all don’t want to hurt anymore. We lost Louis too, remember? But alcohol is not the answer.”

“What is, then?” Harry looks angrily at Zayn. Liam can sense how upset his boyfriend is and puts his arm around his waist. The darker boy moves closer to him at the touch. “It sure as hell isn’t that quack Tom. Those stupid talks don’t help at all.”

“They have some really good therapists in rehab,” Demi tells Harry.

  
 “I’m not going to rehab.” Harry goes on ranting angrily as he struggles to get up. “Like I said, I’m not like Uncle Stefan. I don’t have a problem.”

“Harry, please,” Anne pleads, halting Harry in his movements. “If you won’t do it for yourself, please do it for us.”


	7. 7

The redhead behind the desk doesn't look up as Harry walks into the building, dragging his luggage with him. His sister and mother follow behind him, both solemn looks on their faces. Like Harry, they wish they were anywhere but here, but for different reasons.

"Excuse me," Harry's mother Anne asks as she walks towards the desk. Her mouth in in a thin line, as she is not pleased that the girl behind the desk doesn't pay them attention. "We're here to submit my son, Harry Styles."

"I can do this on my own, you know," Harry mutters. His eyes have anger in them as he points them at his mother. Anne can also see hurt shine in his green irises and it breaks her heart. She knows she's doing this for his own good but that doesn't make it any less awful.

"I know, honey," Anne replies, giving her son a small smile. "I was only trying to help."

The girl behind the desk is now looking up and is eyeing the son and mother. Her lips form a smile as Harry turns to her and announces, "I need to lock myself up in here because my family and friends think I have a problem."

"They probably mean well," the girl tells Harry, the smile not leaving her face. Harry's eyes drift to her name badge for a moment and he sees she's called Kate. He guesses the name suits her. "What is your name again."

Harry's a bit surprised she doesn't recognize him. People normally know who he is by just looking at his face, or rather his curls. Some even recognize him from miles away but apparently this girl doesn't know who he is. Harry wonders what kind of music she listens to if she doesn't know One Direction.

"The name is Harry Styles," Harry tells Kate.

Kate nods her head and turns her eyes towards the computer in front of her. She types in something, frowns a little bit and them looks up again. "It appears, you're in luck. Someone just left this morning. You can start today if you like."

"We want him to get help as soon as possible," Anne interjects. Harry can see the tears in his mother's eyes and the sight cuts through his numbness. It hurts seeing his mother being hurt over him. He never thought he would make his own mother cry. "This has gone on for too long."

"I understand." Kate nods her head again and types something into the computer again. "I assume you're Harry's mother."

"Yeah she is and I'm Harry's sister," Gemma exclaims. She nudges Harry aside with a gentle shove and looks at the redhead behind the desk with eyes that show the irritation she's feeling. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing, I was trying to make conversation," Kate replies, one eyebrow raised in surprise at Gemma's hostility. If Harry's being honest, he doesn't understand why his sister is acting this way either.

Kate turns to Harry again and the smile returns to her face. "I just need to know what your addictions are. Don’t worry, I won't judge, I just need to know for the files."

Harry lets out a sigh and runs a hand through his curls. "It’s just alcohol, just alcohol."

"Alright," Kate mumbles as she types the answer into the computer. When she's finished she stands up and explains, "Now that's done, I'm going to take you to your room."

"Can we come with him?" Anne asks as Kate walks out from behind the desk.

"Sure, it's no problem," Kate replies.

Now that's she's standing in front of Harry, he can see how formal she's dressed. She’s wearing a blue suit and modest make up. She reminds Harry of girls who work for big firms in America. It must be a really fancy place Liam picked for Harry to stay. He probably hoped that it meant the doctors were better than the once who worked in a cheaper rehab.

"If you would follow me," Kate tells the Styles family.

They follow her through the hall to the elevator. Kate presses on the button and waits for the lift to come down. As they wait, Anne turns to Harry and looks at him with tears in her eyes.

"Please, Harry try your best. Let the doctors help you," Harry's mother begs, her eyes pleading. "I know you only went because I, Gemma and the boys wanted you to but please, be honest with the doctors and listen to what they say to you. They know what they're talking about and they'll be able to help you."

"Mom, like I said, i don't need help," Harry huffs. His eyes leave his mother's face and gaze at the closed lift door instead. "I don't have a problem. You and the boys are just overreacting."

"You're not the first person sent here by their family who doesn't think they have a problem," Kate tells Harry. His eyes  shoot towards her because why is she interfering with a private conversation? She's probably thinking she's helping. "I isn't always easy to see you have a problem when you have a drinking habit."

"But i don't have a drinking habit," Harry exclaims, irritated. "I just drink more than I used to. And could you blame me, I just lost the love of my life."

Before Kate has a chance to react, there's ping and the elevator doors open. The redhead walks inside and Harry and his family follow. Kate presses the six as the doors close again. Harry’s room is on the sixth floor then.

"A lot of men start drinking when they lose a loved one." Apparently Kate isn't finished yet with convincing Harry he's an alcoholic. She's really getting on his last nerve.

"Yeah well, not me. I drink more, not too much," Harry snaps at Kate. Kate doesn't seem faced by his tone of voice, she continues smiling at Harry.

"Well, that will be for Doctor Hayes to decide," she tells Harry. “You’re going to have a session with him later today to uncover the extent of your problem.”

Harry is not going to like it here, he already knows. This clinical talk being uttered by Kate is making him feel uncomfortable already. What if the doctors are going to be talking like that as well, like Harry is just another patient they need to cure instead of someone they don't like seeing in this situation because they care for him? He's going to feel like a number instead of human being.

It doesn't take too long for the lift to reach its destination. Harry is out of the lift quicker than Kate, feeling restless with the irritation of being here. He could be at the bar, drinking another glass of beer while pretending Louis was just waiting for him in their apartment instead of in this hell hole.

"Well, this is your room," Kate tells Harry as they stop in front of a door with the number 9 on it. "You share it with another boy who's at a session at the moment."

Well, that's great. Harry is going to need to share a room with someone else as well. Before everything happened, he wouldn’t have had a problem with that because he’s a peoples person, but everything has changed now. But he's not going to complain. The last thing he wants is a reputation as a complaining pop star.

Kate opens the door and Harry walks inside. He lets out a soft groan as he sees how small the room is. There's one bed on each side of the room, a desk between them and a TV at the opposite side of the room. Apparently, rooms isn't were the money goes to.

"This will be your room for the first few days," Kate tells Harry as she follows Anne and Gemma into the room. It sounds like she's reading it from a pamphlet, no emotion whatsoever. "When you make progress, you'll be transferred to another room that'll be bigger. We think it'll stimulate you to try to get well."

After having told Harry his appointment with doctor Hayes is at 4 o'clock, Kate walks out of the room again, leaving Harry alone with his mother and sister.

"Oh, baby," Anne exclaims as she pulls her tall son into her arms. He towers over her but he does nothing to push her away. He's allowing for his mother to be emotional for few second. "Please remember this is what's best for you. I don't do this to hurt you."

"I know, mum," Harry admits with a sigh. He knows she isn't doing this to hurt him, he never thought that. "I know you mean well. You just don't see you're overreacting."

"Well, I'm allowed to overreact, Harry. I'm your mother," Anne admonishes her son and even though he wants to protests, he lets her have this.

Harry's mother lets go of him again and gives him a kiss on his forehead. She looks at him with tears in her eyes and whispers, "Please, get better."

"I'll try," Harry promises, swallowing passed the lump in his throat.

When Anne steps away, Gemma takes her mother's place. She too takes Harry in her arms and squeezes him close to her. "Good luck, little brother. I know things have been hard on you but I know you can do this."

There are also tears in Gemma’s eyes as she pulls away from the hug but they don't fall. Instead, they shimmer in her brown eyes. "I love you, we all do."

"I know," Harry says, his voice wobbly. "Now go get, before you start crying."

"You wish," Gemma chuckles. She ruffles his curls, her smile warm and full of love.


	8. 8

The woman in front of Demi smiles at her. Her mouth is pulled up at the corners because she's expecting Demi to say she's staying strong. She doesn't expect Demi to say that things are starting to fall apart, that she's losing control. It's because people think Demi is strong when she's as fragile as everybody else.

Before the incident, Demi would have never thought she'd been in this position. She too had believed in her own myth because she had felt strong back then. She did had her weak moments, she did relapse once or twice, decorating her skin with cuts again, but she had never fallen back so far before.

Demi had been sober ever since she's been out of rehab. She had a glass with an alcoholic drink now and then, but she stayed away from the drugs. But that has changed after the hijack. Everything was so fucked up and she felt so out of control, that she wanted to forget for a moment. She didn't want to think any more about that she got raped, that she lost a friend and was rapidly losing another one to alcohol. So, she started doing drugs again and for a few moments she was able to forget.

Sneaking around had become a habit of her again. She didn't want Niall to find out she'd given in, so she made up bogus excuse to get out of the house alone and snort her coke. She would go back to the apartment again and lie to his face about her supposed shopping trip. She always told him she didn't buy any clothes because she didn't find any clothes she liked and he had believed her. Why shouldn't he, she had never lied to him before.

Harry's intervention had been a wakeup call for Demi. She could see how much he was hurting his band mates and family and it brought all the shame back she felt at her intervention. She realized she too was heading in the wrong direction just as much as Harry was. And she too needed to do something about it.

That's why Demi is going to tell her therapist about her drug use. Demi isn’t as afraid of letting her down as she is with her family and Niall. Her thinking Demi is weak isn't as bad as Niall and her family thinking it.

Because that is what they're going to think of her. They'll think she's weak for giving into something she knows is bad for her. Demi has been here before and she should know better. It's going to hurt when she's going to read those thoughts on their faces.

"Demi, do you have anything to say before we begin?" the therapist asks, shaking Demi from her thoughts.

Demi smiles at the older woman sitting in front of her and says, "Yeah, I do want to say something, actually."

"Oh, alright." The therapist blinks, clearly surprised at Demi's answer before the smile reappears on her face again. She puts one leg over the other and asks, "What do you want to talk about, then?"

"I'm using drugs again," Demi tells her, not beating around the bush. She can't really see a reason not to just say as it is.

"Really?" the therapists replies, her eyes big with surprise. Just like Demi suspected, she wasn’t expecting Demi to have such a big relapse. It goes to show, how little people really know about Demi.

"Really." Demi tries not to let her annoyance shine through in her voice. "I started using again after the train hijack."

"Are they the same drugs as the ones you've gone to rehab before for?" the therapist wants to know. As she waits for Demi's answer, she leans to the side and grabs a piece of paper from the stack that's lying on her desk. She grabs a pen as well before sitting back again, spine ramrod straight.

"Yeah, I'm snorting coke again," is Demi's snarky reply. Her cheeks flame with shame and her whole body feels clammy because she hates admitting her weakness. "I'm taking pain killers as well. That's different from last time."

"And how often do you use coke?" the therapist asks next.

"Twice a week. I take the pills every morning. I always wake up feeling awful because I have nightmares every single night. The pills always make me feel better."

Telling she's having nightmares, makes the bad feeling that always accompany them crawl up Demi's throat. Tears are pricking at the corners of her eyes, ready to fall when things become too much.

"You know you're going to have to go to rehab, right?" the therapist asks, her voice soft as pity trickles through. Demi's eyes travel from her own hands laying in her lap to the face of the therapist. There is pity in her eyes as well.

"I know," Demi replies with a sigh. Niall is not only going to have a best friend in rehab but a girlfriend as well. He's going to be hurting even more than he already is and Demi is going to be the reason. It's another reason for Demi to hate herself. "I'm going to talk with my boyfriend and family about it today. I'm thinking about going to the same rehab I went to before."

Demi can't go to the same rehab as Harry. She can't risk Harry finding out she has gone down the wrong path as well because that will be bad for his recovery. He might give up and not accept help because he's going to think that if Demi can't recover without having a relapse, he's not going to be able to either. He's not going to want to bother.

"Good, that's good," the therapist tells Demi. She gives her an encouraging smile before her eyes return to the blank page laying on her lap and writes something on it. Demi doesn't try to read it, she has a feeling she knows what's been written.

Demi returns back at her apartment half an hour later. As soon as she's through the door, the smell of freshly baked scones washes over her. Her stomach growls as she realizes Niall must be cooking. He always does that when he's stressed. And he's under a lot of stress now because one of the best friends is in rehab. He's still not sure they've done the right think not trying to help Harry themselves. He had confided in Demi last night.

"That smells really nice," Demi calls at Niall as she sets her bag down in the chair right next to the door. "Are there still some left for me, or did you eat them all?"

"I just finished them," Niall shouts back at her from the kitchen. "I made enough for the both of us and most likely our children, if we had any."

"Good, I'm starving."

Niall had been the one who introduced Demi to scones and the American girl is very happy he did. The English delicacy is one of the tastiest things Demi has ever eaten. It's pure heaven and her favorite pastry.

"Didn’t you have lunch before you went to the therapist?" Niall asks as Demi makes her way towards their kitchen. She doesn't answer him before she's entered the kitchen.

"I did, but I'm always hungry for your scones," Demi comments. She grins at Niall as she walks towards the batch of scones that's laid out in a plate on top of the stove.

Niall shakes his head as he smiles at back at Demi. He follows her movements as she hovers her head over the plate with scones and takes in a deep breath to smell them. "You make it sound sexual if you say it like that."

"I'm not the one making it sexual, not me. I can't help it if you think about sex all the time," Demi jokes. She doesn’t want to talk with Niall about rehab yet, so she's going to joke with him instead. Maybe it will soften the blow when she tells him she's been sneaking behind his back.

Demi and Niall wait for a few minutes until the scones have cooled down. When they're just the right temperature to eat, Niall takes the plate with scones from the stove and walks into the living room. Demi follows him with a pot of tea and two cups. They sits down at the dinner table, Demi sitting across from Niall.

For the first few minutes, Niall and Demi just talk. Niall avoids talking about Harry in rehab and Demi avoids talking about her eminent return to the same kind of institution.

But the scones are slowly disappearing and with it, Demi's window of opportunity is growing smaller. She knows she has to tell Niall the bad news and she has to tell him soon.

"Are you not going to ask how my appointment with the therapist went?" Demi asks quickly before she can chicken out, interrupting her boyfriend's story he’s telling her. Niall looks at her surprised.

"Why? Is there something that happened at the appointment you want to talk about?" Niall asks her, one eyebrows raised.

"Actually, I do," Demi tells the blonde Irish man. "I told my therapists I was using drugs again."

"Why would you tell her that?" Niall asked, his forehead scrounged up in confusion.

"Because I am. I'm using drugs again." Demi can't bear to see the disappointment that will surely appear on Niall's face, so she turns her head downwards and eyes the cracks in the hardwood table. She can feel tears brimming at the comers of her eyes as she goes on with her confession. "I've been taking coke and pain killers for the past months. Whenever, I went out alone, I snorted coke in the restroom of restaurants."

"What about the pain killers, did you take them right under my nose?" The hurt is evident in Niall's voice and it breaks Demi's heart. Her sight goes blurry as she can no longer stop her tears from falling.

"I've been taken them after I wake up. They help me forget the nightmares," Demi confesses. Her voice breaks as tears run down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

"You're apologizing? _I_ should be apologizing to you," Niall protests.

Demi's head snaps back up in surprise. Niall is looking at her with tears in his own eyes. His lower lip is trembling and he looks angry. Niall is angry with himself for some baffling reason.

"Why should you apologize? I lied to you. I went behind you back so I could take drugs," Demi is shaking her head as water droplets being produced by her eyes fly every which way. "What the hell do you have to apologize for?"

"I should have known. If I paid more attention, I would have known you had a relapse," Niall growls. His hands are now laying on the table and are balled into fists. "I swore I would protect you and I failed once again."

At first Demi isn't sure what Niall means by once again but it doesn't take her long to realize to what he's referring to. She feels like she's going to be sick when she realizes what Niall thinks he's guilty of.

"Niall, please don't blame yourself for what that bastard did to me," Demi begs. She grabs a hold of his fists and pulls them towards herself. "There was nothing you could have done. You didn't know what that awful man would do to me. And even if you had, you would have been killed if you had tried to stop them. Those men didn't care if we lived or died. Remember, they were going to shoot Harry if their demands weren't met."

"I may not have been able to protect you back then, but now I could have. There's no excuse this time. I should have realized there was a danger of you slipping back, but I didn't." Niall turns his hands palms up and takes Demi's hands in his. "I'm sorry. I'm going to do everything in my power to make this up to you."


	9. 9

"Do you know why you're here?" the man sitting in front of Harry asks. He's looking at the younger male with a friendly smile and no judgment in his eyes. There is not what he's here for, he's here to help people.

At least, that is how it's supposed to be. But Harry isn't sure if it's true in his case. He's probably another of those pop stars gone bad in the eyes of the psychologist. He's probably come across them too often for his taste and he's stopped feeling sorry for them.

Not that Harry can really blame him. There are a lot of pop stars who fall into a drug or alcohol habit. It's because of the stress that always comes with their job. Harry does understand if the doctor is fed up with people like him.

"My friends think I have a problem," Harry answers the psychologists question. He's sitting with his arms crossed and a guarded look on his face. He really wants to be anywhere but here. It had crossed his mind to stay in his room when he'd seen it was time for his appointment with Doctor Hayes but he hadn't wanted to get into trouble. Besides, he had promised his mother and sister he would try his best to cooperate.

"You don't think you have a problem." The doctor sounds curious, like he really wants to know the answer. It doesn’t surprise Harry that the doctor knows how to let it appear like he cares, he has had a lot of practice.

"No, I don't," Harry replies. His voice is sharp, which doesn't seem to face the doctor.

"Why?"

"Because I don't," Harry exclaims. "Yes, I drink more than I used to but is no big deal. I don't harm anyone with it."

"Not even yourself?"

"No, not even myself. I have enough money to buy all the booze I want, so I don't hurt myself financially. It isn’t bad for my health either because I don't drink enough to cause any liver damage." Harry runs a hand through his hair in frustration, easing some of the tension that's giving him a small head ache. "I don't have a problem, I don't know what I'm doing here."

"What's the reason than for your friends and family to ask you to seek help?"

"Because they can't face their own problems and instead create one for me," Harry replies. His voice is tainted with the bitterness that's brewing inside his chest.

"Why do you think that?" Doctor Hayes asks. He's still smiling at Harry but something has changed in his eyes. Harry assumes the older male doesn't like that Harry isn't admitting he needs his help. Harry knows psychologists get off on people needing them. Harry averts his eyes - because he can't stand looking in Doctor Hayes eyes anymore  -  and trains them on his own hands that are lying in his lap.

"Because it's the only explanation." Harry shakes his head. "My friends have problems of their own that they don't know how to fix them. They don't know what to do about their own traumas, so they project an alcohol problem on me so they can fix it instead."

"I assume the traumas you're referring to are related to the train hijack you and your friends were a victim of?"

Doctor Hayes knowing about the hijack doesn't come as a surprise of course. It had been all over the news. Train hijacks aren't an everyday occurrence in England, so of course it was national, no international, news. One Direction being among the victims made it entertainment news as well - not that Doctor Hayes looks like someone who watches E! News, with his grey goatee and thick rimmed spectacles. The day after the hijack, Harry had seen the man who's at the moment the Prime minister hold a speech on television about how the tragic incident was a painful reminder that criminals thinks they have the upper hand and that the government should be come down harder on them. It was one of the reason why he's won the election.

"Yeah, I'm talking about the hijack, what else could I be talking about?" Harry snaps at Doctor Hayes.

The doctor smile disappears from his face but his eyes remain friendly. He is ignoring Harry's animosity, but he's trying to appears sympathetic. He leans a little bit forward as he tells Harry  "Your friends may have traumas, but so do you. Your boyfriend died during the hijack. A lot of men start drinking more when they try to deal with a loss, and I believe that's what you're doing."

"Well, what's wrong with that?" Harry's voice is hoarse as he looks at the man in front of him with eyes that have become unfocused. "If that's the way I want to deal with the pain. You say it's what a lot of men do."

"When a lot of people do something, it doesn't mean it's healthy," Doctor Hayes explains. He sits back against the back rest of his chair again and looks at Harry with eyes that have pity in them. Harry hates it when people feel sorry for him, he's seen enough of it over the months following the hijack. "Drinking or using drugs to deal with pain is not good for you. You numb the pain and push it away when you do that, instead of learning how to live with it. I know you're really hurting right now, but living with your pain is really the best way to deal with it."

"But what if I don't want to live with the pain?" Harry shakes his head again. Tears have started flowing and his chest feels like it's caving in. Talking about Louis and the pain that comes with losing him makes it hard to breath. "What's wrong with suppressing it?"

"It will become too much for you. The pain will accumulate and overwhelm you. The pain will be ten times worse than what you're feeling right now."

Harry can't image a pain that's ten times worse than what he's feeling in his chest, in his head. How could he hurt more than he's hurting now? It seems impossible. It _is_ impossible. Doctor Hayes doesn't know what he's talking about.

"What do you think your boyfriend would have wanted you to do?"

The question comes so unexpected that Harry sucks in a breath in shock. He looks at Doctor Hayes with big surprised eyes before he narrows them into an angry glare. "Why would you ask me such a question?" He hisses.

“Because most people would want their loved ones to move on if they died,” Doctor Hayes answers. “Do you think your boyfriend is one of them? Would Louis want for you to move on in a healthy way?”

Harry and Louis hadn’t talked about what would happen if one of them were to die. They were young, on top of the world and in love. They had felt invincible, like so many young men had before them. But that doesn’t mean Harry doesn’t know what Louis would have wanted. He knows, no knew, the love of his life well enough to know what Louis would want him to do now. He would have wanted him to stop blaming himself, find another way to deal with his grief other than the bottle and try to move on.

Knowing what Louis wants him to do it doesn’t make it any easier. The pain makes it so difficult. The thought that he will never again lay eyes on Louis, share a bed with him or eat a romantic meal hurts so much. It’s like a knife through his heart.

Then there are the smells that remind Harry of Louis. Smells that are followed by memories from happier times, when Louis was still alive and they were so in love. They haunt him every hour of the day. Drinking booze makes him believe that he and Louis still have time to make new ones.

“What do you think Louis would have wanted?” Doctor Hayes asks again. His brown eyes are trained on the young man in front of him, forcing Harry to tell the truth. “He would have wanted me to try to move on. He would have wanted me to enjoy life to its fullest.” Just like Louis had done before he was shot.

“It’s good that you see that. It’s a good first step,” Doctor Hayes tells Harry with an encouraging nod. “I think I have enough to decide your treatment.”

When Harry walks back to his room, his feels slightly dizzy with all the rehab jargon thrown his way. Half of the words he hadn’t understood but he did catch that he is going to have group sessions as well as private ones. The group sessions will be about his problems with alcohol and the private session will be focused on the underlying problem: losing a loved one. Harry feels a little sick thinking about how much of himself he’s going to have to lay bare the coming couple of weeks, or rather months. Doctor Hayes told him he was going to have to stay in rehab for at least two months.

Harry knows he’s sharing a room with a boy but the figure sitting on the other bed when he walks in still takes him by surprise. He lets out a very manly yell, thank you very much – and grabs his chest as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest.

The boy has short black hair that’s slicked back. His skin is a pale color and his brown eyes look feverously around the room. He’s constantly stretching the inside of his elbows and he moves his sneaker clad feet in a nervous manner. Harry doesn’t have to guess what his roommate is in for. He has seen enough people who have followed the same downward spiral as him. Harry would have thought he would be placed with another alcoholic but apparently they don’t discriminate between addictions. The coming few weeks, Harry is going to have to share a room with an heroin addict.

“You’re my new roommate, then,” the boy mutters. His eyes settle on Harry’s face for a few seconds before they’re flitting around the room again. “The name is Matty. It’s nice to meet you.”


	10. 10

It feels strange being back at Timberline Knolls. It doesn’t feel right to be back here again. When Demi had left this facility three years ago, she had promised herself she wouldn’t return. She might suffer minor relapses, but she wouldn’t let it get so far again that she had to return to rehab. But now she has.

The doctors hadn’t been disappointed in her, like she knew they would. Demi knows them well enough to know they would never judge. They don’t like it when people return but they don’t think bad about their patients if they do. It isn’t unusual for ex drug users to fall back into their drug habit after a while. Demi had promised herself she would never be one of them but here she is, using drugs again.

Like the last time she stayed at Timberline Knolls, Demi has her own room. She doesn’t have to share because for some reason the doctors think she needs to have a room of her own. The last time there was a different reason, than it was because there weren’t a lot of patiens, not anyone needed to share a room and as Demi was famous, she’s probably prefer to have a room of her own. Demi wonders if it’s because they’re afraid she will scream from the nightmares.

Her doctors know about the hijack, like almost everyone in the world, but unlike most people, they know which traumas she’s suffering from because of it. They know she has nightmares as well as ghosts that are haunting her. They have been taught what happens to people when they’re the victim of horrible situations.

They don’t really know how Demi is suffering, though. They don’t know because they haven’t lived through what she lived through. They didn’t get raped while masked men and two of her friends watched. They didn’t see one of their friends getting shot right in front of their eyes. They don’t know what that has done to her.

She’s afraid of her boyfriend’s touch, even though he has done nothing to make her afraid of him. She feels guilty about being unable to prevent Louis from getting shot. All she had been able to do is watch as her friend struggled with one of the hijackers to get a hold of the gun and then there had been a bang she can hear even now. Louis’s body has slumped down on one the hijackers and had been smacked down on the hard floor of the train, lifeless, when the hijacker had crawled down from under it.

Demi had been unable to make any sound, stunned by the realization that Louis was dead. But Zayn and Harry had screamed at the sight of Louis’s shirt stained with blood right above where his heart was and his lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.

Harry had scrambled to Louis, ignoring the warnings shouted at him by the hijacker that just killed his boyfriend and had wrapped Louis’s body in his arms. Sobs had racked his body as he rocked back and forth, kissing Louis’s forehead and whispering, “Louis, please. Don’t die. Please wake up. Louis,” over and over again.

Even though the doctors and most of the other patients won’t understand, Demi still has to talk about it. She’s currently having a group session and she’s going to need to explain what she’s going through. It feels impossible, it feels like she can’t convey with words her suffering and it probably will be impossible to do. But over time she hopes she ‘ll be able to, it had happened the last time she was here. Back then, she didn’t know how to voice her problems either but after a while she had been able to.

The girl sitting next to Demi is talking right now. Her name is Laura and she’s telling the other patiens about why she began using heroin. Her boyfriend had used it and had pressured her into using it as well, unknowingly. She had loved him and had wanted to experience the same things he was. She had heard from a friend that couples who didn’t use drugs together were doomed. She had only discovered later that her so called friend was using drugs as well and tricked her into using as well because it would make her ‘less boring’.

Demi feels anger boil up in the pit of her stomach at the story. She can’t believe people would trick their friends into using drugs like that. Pretend that not using drugs will ax someone’s relationship when in reality you just want to drag your friend down the wrong path with you. People like Laura’s friend make Demi sick to her stomach.

“Thank you Laura for sharing this with us,” the doctor tells the blonde girl who has wrapped up her story. The white tag that gleams in the florescent light reads Matthews. She’s new, she didn’t work here when Demi was in rehab in 2011. Her black hair is pulled back in a ponytail, making her cheek bones look sharp. Her eyes have a brown color and her skin is tan. If Demi has to guess, she’s either Chinese or Thais.

“Demi, now it’s your turn,” Doctor Matthews announces and turns to face Demi. She smiles at her and nods at her encouragingly.

“I’m here because I started to use again. I stopped using in 2011 but started using again 5 months ago.”

“Why did you start using again, Demi?” Matthews asks, even though she knows the answer. Demi is the one who’s going to need to say it.

“Because it makes the nightmares go away.”

“Can you tell us more about those nightmares?” Doctor Matthews asks.

Demi can feel fear crawl up her throat as she realizes she’s going to need to talk about the nightmares. She isn’t sure she’s ready for that. She’s going to need to tell them about dreaming about being chased down a corridor of a train until her pursuers overpower her. All these people sitting in the circle are going to know about the hands she can feel violating her body in her nightmare. They will know all about the horrible thing that the leader of the hijackers did to her, something nobody apart from her last therapist, the boys and her family knows. She hadn’t told the press she was raped because she was too ashamed. The perpetrator was dead, so she hadn’t needed to talk about her rape to prevent it from happening again to someone else. So she had kept it secret, from the press, her fans and the rest of the world.

But now she’s going to need to talk about it after all and she’s going to risk her secret being leaked to the press. There may be doctor and patient privilege from preventing the doctors from talking, but the other patients are free to talk to whichever paper they choose to.

However, Demi knows  she needs to be honest. If she wants to recover and kick her habit again, she must come clean completely, or else the doctors will be unable to help her.

“There something I haven’t told the press about and I really hope it can stay in this room,” Demi tells her fellow patients. She looks around the circle of people and catches each of their eyes with her own. Maybe it’ll make them less willing to sell her out when they see the pleading look in her eyes.

“We won’t,” Laura tells Demi when their eyes meet. Demi can see the honesty in her eyes, making a lump form in her throat. A chorus of “No, we won’t” follows.

Demi turns her head back towards Doctor Matthews, a smile on her face. She’s touched her fellow patients are so understanding. The smile however disappears as she takes a deep breath and prepares to finally talk about her rape.

“As most of you probably know, I was involved in a train hijack six months ago,” Demi begins. She casts her eyes down and fixes them on her hands that she has laid in her lap. “I told the press most of what happened that day except for one thing. I didn’t want anyone else but the people close to me to know what happened to me, because it’s so horrible and I feel ashamed.” Demi never told anyone this, not even Niall. He blames himself for what happened to her and it would only serve to make him feel even more guilty. “I got raped.”

Demi can hear Laura suck in a breath in shock but that’s the only sound she hears. She had expected the other patients to react shocked as well, but apparently she had judged them wrong. But what emotion are they feeling than if it isn’t shock? Demi wants to know, so she lifts her head.

The boys and girls sitting in the circle with Demi look at her with pity in their eyes. Some of them have tears in their eyes and one or two look at her with understanding in their eyes. Were they raped, like her?

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” a blonder boy tells Demi. He has tears in his eyes as he looks at her. “I think it’s really brave you told the people close to you. I couldn’t when it happened to me.”

Demi has been called brave before, it’s what her fellow musicians and some people of the press called her when she had opened up about her problems after her last stay here, but this time it doesn’t feel right. Because she isn’t brave, far from it. If she was, she would have faced her problems instead of trying to get rid of them with the help of drugs.

“I’m not brave, though,” Demi denies. She shakes her head as tears start to run down her cheeks. “I didn’t face my fears, instead I started to use drugs. It’s the coward's way out.”

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” Doctor Matthews admonishes Demi. There’s still a smile on her face but her eyes are penetrating as they look at Demi. “I think Corey is right. Telling people close to you is brave. Most rape victims find it very difficult to do that. They’re afraid their family and friends will turn their backs on them if they tell them.”

“But I didn’t have that fear, because I knew they wouldn’t,” Demi protests. She really needs the doctor and her fellow patience to understand that she isn’t brave. If they don’t, they can’t help her because they won’t understand what she needs. “They were so understanding the last time I had problems, so I knew they would be this time as well. Telling them was nothing brave. I’m not brave, don’t you understand? If I was, I would have never been raped.”

“So you mean to say, only cowards get raped?” Corey asks, his voice sharp as he looks at Demi with narrowed eyes.

Demi can slaps herself. What a great way to start therapy, she has already offended one of her follow patients. She really has to be more careful with what she says.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Demi denies.

“The nightmares you have, are about the rape?” Doctor Matthews asks, much to Demi’s relief. Now she won’t have to explain herself to Corey. She doesn’t know if she could have. She’d probably would have offended him even more.

“Yeah. I dream that I get chased down the train corridor until my attackers catch up with me.” Demi stops talking for a few seconds and takes a deep breath. Now she’s coming to the difficult part. “They tackle me to the ground and start to push their hands under my clothes. Most nights I wake up screaming and crying before they actually rape me.”

“You live with your boyfriend, right?” is the doctor’s next question.

“Yeah, I live with Niall,” Demi confirms. She now has her arms crossed, making her feel a little bit more secure.

“How does he react when you wake up screaming. I assume it wakes him up.”

“Yeah, it does. But he’s never mad at me.” Demi can’t help but smile as she’s reminded of how wonderful of a boyfriend Niall is. “He always takes me in his arms and starts to sing to me.”

“And you don’t mind him touching you after you had such a nightmare?” the doctor asks. She looks at Demi with a confused look on her face and Demi understands why. Victims of rape don’t like it when people touch them, not even people who never hurt them.

“I don’t like him touching me in the beginning and I flinch when he puts his arms around me. But he always senses it and he loosens his arms when it happens so I can get out of the embrace if I want to. Only when I lean back into him does he pull me into the embrace again.”

“I see.” The doctor nods and smiles at Demi. “Your boyfriend seems very thoughtful.”

“He is,” Demi replies. The tears have stopped falling and a smile graces her features.

After that, Doctor Matthews moves on to the boy sitting next to Demi. Demi slumps back against her seat and lets out a sigh. Even though telling about the rape again was painful, she is relieved that the doctors now know about it. Now they can truly help her kick her habit.


	11. 11

“Can you maybe switch off the radio?” Niall mutters. His eyes are on the road falling away under the wheels of the car. His head is thrumming with an headache that he’s been suffering from ever since he woke up and doesn’t seem able to get rid of.  The music coming from the car radio is making the pain even worse. “It isn’t helping my headache.”

“Yeah, sorry. Of course,” Liam quickly apologizes, always the considered one. He switches the radio off immediately before turning around. Zayn, who’s sitting next to him and who’s driving the car mutters something under his breath that Niall can’t hear.

“Why do you have an headache, Niall?” Liam asks, looking at his band mate with a concerned look. “Do you have an hangover?” What Liam really wants to ask is if Niall has started to drink more since Demi went back to rehab, but he would never state it so bluntly. Liam is more of the innocent questions that will give him the answer to the questions he doesn’t want to ask.

“No, I just didn’t sleep so well," Niall replies. He turns his head so he’s looking at Liam. He gives him a smile that makes his head throb. Niall ignores the pain, like he’d done all day up until Zayn switch on the radio. “I’m not drinking my problems away, you don’t have to worry.”

If it had been two weeks ago, Niall would have reacted differently to Liam’s question. If there was something Niall had hated was people suggested he had a drinking problem. He was an Irish man, he was allowed to drink a lot, it was part of his cultural heritage. But now things are different. Niall can’t really blame Liam anymore for being worried about him drinking too much alcohol. Harry had become an addict, who’s to say Niall can’t be one too.

What Liam doesn’t know, Niall could never do that. He could never give in and try to drown his memories, his nightmares and his loss. For the most part he can’t because Demi needs him right now and he can’t be there for her if he’s let himself be sucked into a downwards spiral as well. But the other part of the reason is that he can’t do that to Louis’s memory. Forgetting about him being dead or avoiding the pain that comes with it feels like tarnishing his memory. Louis is dead, he’s not around anymore and even though it hurts, they should feel the pain. He lost his life trying to protect Harry and wanting to forget that feels like disrespecting his sacrifice.

That’s why seeing Harry waste away his life in bars and locked away in his room had hurt so much. Louis hadn’t given his life so Harry could whine about how he is the one who’s supposed to be dead instead of Louis and trying to forget he’s dead with booze. He was supposed to mourn his boyfriend’s death for a little bit and then move on, not get stuck in the mourning stage forever.

Niall really hopes things are getting better for Harry now that he’s in rehab. Even though he’s still not too happy about having handed Harry over to strangers, he hopes Harry is doing well. Niall doesn’t mind being proven wrong if it means one of his best friends is doing better. Harry’s mental health is by far more important than Niall’s own ego.

Liam, Zayn and Niall are currently driving to the rehab Harry is staying at. They’re finally allowing him visitors, now that he’s been there for three weeks. In a few hours, Niall is going to find out if Harry is indeed doing better. 

“Alright. Good,” Liam mutters, his cheeks turning a bit red. “Did you take any pills against the headache?”

“Yeah, three. They aren’t bloody working apparently,” Niall curses. He starts to rub the sides of his head in the hope it will ease the pain a little bit.

“Do you need to drink something? We can make a pit stop to get you something to drink?” Liam seems to be adamant to find a cure for Niall’s head ache.

“Babe, please stop talking,” Zayn admonishes Liam. He lays his hand on Liam’s thigh and starts to rub it. Liam turns around to glare at him. “Don’t make that face at me. I now you mean well, but you’re only making Niall’s head ache worse bombarding him with questions like that. Just let him be for a few minutes and he’ll be right as rain.” Niall just hopes he’s right.

The rest of the car ride, nobody says anything, aside from Zayn whispering something into Liam’s ear that makes him stop pouting. After that, Liam keeps giving Zayn soppy smiles through the rearview mirror.

They arrive at the rehab half an hour later. It isn’t very big, probably only capable to hold around 200 guests. The rehab Demi is staying at, can house twice the amount of patients, or so she had told Niall. He hasn’t seen the building for his own yet.

After they’ve parked the car near the entrance, the three friends walk into the rehab and walk up to the desk. The girl behind the desk has red hair and she looks bored. It rubs Niall the wrong way. He already doesn’t like h

“We’re here for Harry Styles,” Liam tells the girl as he gives her a friendly smile. Zayn is standing right next to him and has one arm wrapped around Liam’s waist.

The redhead gives Liam a forced smile in return and lifts her hand to point at the stairs behind her. “Up the stairs until you’ve reached the second floor and then turn right. Harry is the Meeting Hall. You won’t have difficulty finding it, it’s hard to miss.”

Liam thanks the redhead for the directions, as polite as ever. She just nods at him and tells him ‘good day’, even though her voice suggests she doesn’t care if he has a nice day or not. Niall just hopes the girl has a bad day and that she isn’t always as impolite as this.

It turns out the hall is indeed hard to miss, as the words 'Meeting Hall' are painted in swirling, big letters above the big door.

When Liam opens the door and Zayn and Niall follow him back inside, a sea of faces turn in their direction. Most of the eyes remain on them as they search for where Harry is sitting. He's seated at a white table across the room. Niall can feel eyes following him as he and his friends walk towards Harry.

Harry does look better. There are still bags under his eyes and his hair is still a mess but he looks a little less pale. His eyes don’t seem as dull it they had been when Niall last saw him, either. It seems this place is doing him some good.

Liam is the first to sit down. He chooses the chair right in front of Harry, his eyes never leaving his band mate’s face as he sits down on the wooden surface. Niall and Zayn follow his example and sit down on the chair standing next to Liam’s.

Nothing is said for a few beats as Harry’s eyes travels from where Niall is sitting to Liam’s right to where Zayn is sitting on Liam’s other side and back. Suddenly, Niall feels self-conscious about the bags under his eyes.

“How are you doing, Harry?” Liam asks as he eyes Harry. He’s leaning forward, his under arms pressed down on the table top. There’s a look of worry on the older boy’s face that he’s trying to hide with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, there’s apprehension and a small amount of fear in them. Niall knows Liam is still worried about Harry even though he believes he’s in good hands. He can see it in the tension  around Liam’s mouth, the way his hand inches a little bit closer as if he wants to touch Harry but is afraid to. Maybe Liam needs to hear he’s made the right decision just as much as he and Zayn had the days after Harry was shipped off to rehab.

Zayn must have seen how scared Liam really is because he puts an arm around Liam’s waist and mummers something in his ear that Niall can’t decipher. Whatever it is, it causes Liam to relax his shoulder and give Harry a genuine smile this time.

“You look good, Harry,” he croaks out.

“Then I must look better than I feel. I feel like shit. I haven’t slept much and I have a massive headache,” Harry mutters but his eyes are not unfriendly. Then he laughs. The sound is loud and it makes Niall flinches inwardly. “This time it isn’t an hangover, though.” There’s harshness in his eyes for a few seconds before they soften again.

“I’m glad about that,” Niall jokes. He sends Harry a grin because he refuses to let the tension become worse. The people who have turned around to look at Harry when he let out his bark of laughter, turn around again now that it's apparent that no fight will break out.

Harry, it appears, still blames his band mates for putting him here. He may be looking better because he isn’t drinking as much as he used to but apparently he still doesn’t think he has a problem. And that’s a problem because how can these doctors help him if he doesn’t admit what he’s doing is wrong. If he doesn’t understand the drinking pattern he'd adopted before he was brought here is bad for him, what’s to say he won’t fall back into his habit again as soon as he’s released from rehab?

“We’ll talk quietly, than. How is sharing your room with your roommate? ” Liam asks. Gemma had told them Harry was be sharing a room with another boy when she’d called them after she and her mom brought Harry to the rehab facility.

“He’s an alright guy,” Harry replies. He sits back against the backrest of his chair and folds his arms across his chest. It makes him look closed off, like he doesn’t really want to be here.

Harry’s attitude causes anger to start simmering in the pit of Niall’s stomach. He would like to lean over the table, grab Harry by his arms and rattle him while he yells at him how rude he’s being. Harry is the one who fucked up, not them. He has no right to be angry with them.

But Niall restrains himself and remains seated on his chair as both Liam and Zayn try to keep a conversation going while Harry tries to say as little as possible.


	12. 12

Harry has been at the rehab for two months now. The days he spends in the building Harry sees as his own personal prison, drag on as he repeats the same routine day in, day out. He wakes up, eats his breakfast, goes to his private session, has lunch, goes to his group session, eats dinner, watches some TV and then heads back to bed again. Nothing changes and everything stays the same.

The days would be a little less boring if Harry at any alcohol. A nice bottle of whiskey would bring some joy to his dull situation. But because he’s staying at a rehab, there’s nowhere he can get his hands on beer, a good wine or some strong whiskey. So all he can do is tick off the days he still has left until they'll allow him to go back home again.

Which can be further away than they had told him when he had first started because they are smarter than Harry thought they would be. They have started to see through his lies, the ones he tells them to make them think he’s making progress.

When he told them he’d finally started to realize he indeed has an alcohol addiction, he hadn’t lied. When he told them he understood he had hurt his family and band mates with his reckless behavior, he hadn’t lied either. But when he had told them he understood Louis’s death was not his fault and that Louis would have wanted him to move on, he had.

The doctors hadn’t fallen for the lie and had called him out on it during his last private session. Doctor Leafgreen had looked at him sternly, disappointment swirling around in his blue eyes, and had told him lying isn’t going to help him. They can’t help him if he didn’t tell him the truth and if they can’t help him, he's going to need to stay longer until they’re finally able to.

Harry hadn’t been so sure that they could keep him if they were unable to help him. Surely, if they’re incapable, they’ll have to let him go.

Not if they can’t help him because he lies, the doctor had told him. They can keep him until they've truly have helped him. There hadn't been satisfaction audible in the older male’s voice, like Harry though there would be. Instead there’d been a request in his voice for Harry to listen to him.

That was this morning. It’s midday now and Harry is laying on his bed. His eyes are facing upwards, towards the ceiling above him. He has been looking at the white expanse the last half hour.

Normally, Harry would be in group session right now. But he has been banned from the group session this morning, so he’s starring at his celling instead. Doctor Leafgreen had told him he wasn’t allowed to go to group session until he’d make some progress in the private session. If the foundations weren’t good, it was unwise to try to fix the rest, had been the doctor’s exact words.

Harry lets out a bored sigh as he turns his head so he’s facing to side of the bed. His roommate is sitting on the bed next to Harry’s. The boy has red hair and braces that blind Harry every time he smiles when the sun is out. Rufus is in here for alcohol abuse, like Harry. Harry had been paired with him when he was allowed to switch room for good behavior a few weeks ago. Rufus is a less pleasant roommate then Harry last one turned out to be. He might have been a drug addict, but he hadn’t snored.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at group session?” Harry asks. He narrows his eyes in case Rufus looks up from the book he’s reading.

“Not today, mate,” Rufus replies with his high pitched voice. Harry hadn’t been able to stop himself from laughing when he had first heard it. Luckily, Rufus had been used to it and when Harry had apologize for laughing at him, he had told him it was okay, there was no harm done. “I have another family session today.”

Some of the patients are allowed to have a group session with their family if they’ve started to drink because of the family or because they needed to hear they hurt their family with their behavior one more time.

Harry has had a family session because of the first reason. The doctors had invited Gemma and Anne because he had needed a reminder of how his addiction had hurt his sister and mum. Both of them had been so worried when his band mates had told him about the hours he spend at bars at night and the states they found him in after those night.

An exception had been made when the doctors had invited Harry’s band mates to a session too, a week later. Normally, friends were never invited to talk about the addiction of the patient but they had made an exception for Harry. Harry’s band mates had lost a friend too when his boyfriend died and had been in the train hijack with Harry. They are as essential for Harry’s recovery as his family is.

So, he has had a group session with his parents as well as his band mates and both of them had helped Harry come to terms with his problems, more or less. The sessions with his family and band mates had made him realize he indeed hurt people with his irresponsible behavior. If he died because of too much alcohol in his system, it would kill his family as well as his band mates. It would kill Niall, Liam and Zayn too lose another band mate. Harry had realized he couldn’t do that to his band friends and family. He couldn’t be selfish like that.

The session with his band mates had made him realize it hurt them seeing him in rehab. They may have put him there but they did it because they were worried, not to spite him. As soon as he had realized this, Harry had wanted to kick himself for ever thinking something like that about his band mates. Didn’t he know better then to think they would ever do that. He might have been right and his band mates had pushed him into going in to rehab because that had been easier than dealing with their own problems, but that doesn’t mean it had been the only reason.

“What’s your excuse?” Rufus asks as he turns a page in his book. He looks over his book for a few seconds to lock eyes with Harry before his head disappears behind his book again.

“Doctor Leafgreen wants me to make more progress with my private session before I’m allowed to continue the group sessions,” Harry tells Rufus. He turns his head again and starts tracing the cracks in the ceiling. “It’s load of horse shit, but what can you do.” Harry shrugs his shoulder even though he knows his roommate isn’t looking at him.

Rufus only reaction is a hum of agreement.

Well, if Rufus doesn’t want to talk, Harry is going to have to find another way to entertain himself until dinner. Harry feels like listening to music. So that’s what he’s going to do.

Harry’s I-pod is inside a sock, which he pulls out from under his bed. He has hid it there because it’s the only place he knows they won’t look for something worth stealing. People expect there to only be dirty laundry under the bed.

The sock is smelly, from not having been washed for a week, and Harry’s eyes water at the strong scent. He quickly pulls the music player out of the sock and throws it back under the bed. Maybe he should find another sock to put his prized possession in.

Harry lays back down and puts the earpieces in his ears. He puts the music at low volume before pressing play. The soft voice of Ellie Golding fills his ears, one of the few pop artist he has on his I-pod. Harry closes he eyes and before he knows it, he’s nodding off.

The world inside Harry’s head is a pleasant white. It feels soft and warm, the way his dream world hasn’t been for months. Ever since the incident, his dreams have been full of pain, harshness and darkness. He hadn’t found peace, an escape from the harshness of the real world, instead he had found the same pain and loss he'd felt while awake.

But for some reason things are different now. Harry can finally feel the happiness that comes from peaceful dreams again. He feels relaxed and centered, which is why he doesn’t get scared when he sees he’s not alone.

There’s a figure moving at the edge of Harry’s field of vision. He moves his head so he can see who’s walking towards him. When he sees who it is, all the happiness suddenly leaves his body and tears start running down his cheeks. They feel so real Harry for a second doubts if he’s indeed sleeping but he has to because the person coming towards him with a smile is someone he hasn't seen the past eight months.

It's Louis.

Harry wants to move, breach the distance that's slowly becoming smaller between them but he’s nailed to the ground in shock. Harry thought losing Louis had hurt, but this hurts so much more. Seeing Louis alive and well and knowing it’s nothing more than a dream makes Harry feel a pain that feels like it’s eating him alive.

“Harry,” Louis sighs. He has finally reached Harry and he’s smiling at him, eyes growing smaller and dancing with the joy of seeing Harry again. Louis looks so real, up close and as happy as he’s always been when he was alive. Harry can’t help himself as he reaches out to touch Louis’s face, where the smile has pulled his cheeks upwards. A gasps escapes between Harry’s lips when his fingers don’t go through Louis but land on his late boyfriend’s skin.

Louis reaches out as well and Harry’s heart starts beating out of his chest as his hands find Harry’s cheeks. “You shouldn’t be crying,” Louis mummers as he rubs his thumb under Harry’s eye were the tears are still falling. Louis’s soft smile morphs into a grin when he adds, “I didn’t give my life for you to mope over missing me.”

Even the dream Louis tries to joke the way Harry’s Louis did when he still had been alive. But unlike when Harry’s Louis joked, Harry isn’t laughing right now. What Dream Louis is joking about isn’t funny.

“Are you my conscious or something?” Harry snaps at Dream Louis, dropping his hand from Louis’s cheek. He pulls his face away from Louis’s touch and his hand falls back down. “Did you take on the form of Louis to lecture me about moving on?”

Louis closes his eyes for a few seconds and lets out a sigh. “No, I’m not your conscious." He opens his eyes again and looks straight at Harry. “I’m an appearance, a ghost if you will. Some people call us souls.”

Harry looks at Louis confused, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. He doesn’t understand what Dream Louis is trying to say, or does he? But it can’t be. He can’t be Louis’s ghost he’s talking to, because that’s not the way it works. Ghost haunt places where terrible things have happened, they don’t visit people in their dreams.

“I swears sometimes you’re as dense as Liam,” Louis chuckles as he shakes his head in amusement. He ignores the scowl Harry throws in his direction as he reaches out for Harry’s hand. A look of hurt crosses his face for a moment when Harry moves his hand away from Louis. “God, Harry, it’s me. I’m Louis! I came into your dream to talk to you.”

“I don’t believe you.” Harry shakes his head in denial. Even in his dreams his curls swish back and forth as they drag over the denim shirt he’s wearing. “I’m dreaming. It’s not really you. It can’t be.”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s really me.” Louis lets out a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. It’s the same length as it’d been when he died. If Louis is telling the truth and he is Louis’s ghost, they don’t offer haircuts in heaven, or wherever ghost come from. “I just wish there was some way I could convince you to believe me.”

“Tell me a story about your family you never told me, something your sisters told you to never repeat to someone,” Harry proposes. He hates the thought of Louis hiding anything from him but he desperately wants to believe this really is Louis, trying to talk to him from beyond the grave.

“Wouldn’t I be breaking my promise if I did that,” is Louis’s cheeky reply. A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth for a few seconds before it disappears again. “No, it has to be something different. Oh, I know. I told Liam about a surprise I had planned for you on our holiday. You can ask him about that.”

“What surprise are you talking about?” Harry’s eyes are big as he grabs Louis’s hand again. Louis looks at Harry’s hand holding his before he lifts his head to look Harry in the eyes.

“I planned on asking you to marry me.” Louis voice is hoarse as tears start to gather at the corners of his eyes. He laces his finger around Harry’s hand and squeezes, the strong hold an anchor as Harry feels the wave of emotion almost overtake him.

But Harry needs something much bigger to hold on to, so he grabs a hold of Louis with both his hands. He pulls Louis into an embrace and pulls him so close it almost squeezes all of the oxygen out of Harry’s lunges.

“Ask Liam about it and if he confirms what I just told him, you have to believe what I’m about to say to you really comes from me,” Louis murmurs into Harry’s ear.

“I will,” Harry whispers back.


	13. 13

Demi casts a last glance around the room, bag slung over her shoulder and one hand on the door knob. Her brown eyes travel from her bed, to the small desk standing right next to it, the window ceil where the pictures of her family, friends and boyfriend had stood for the past two months, to the closet which had held her clothes for the same amount of time and back again. She can’t spot anything that’s her own that she's forgotten to pack.

The time has finally come for Demi to go home. Niall is on his way to pick her up and he can be at the rehab at any minute. He send her a text a few minutes ago to tell her he was almost there. He is going to take her home. Demi is done with her treatment, she can go back to her friends and family. She doesn’t have to spend any more days in the facility she once again has vowed to never return to. She just hopes she can hold on to her promise this time.

Demi turns around and walks through the door. She clicks the door shut behind her before closing her eyes for a few seconds. Demi can feel her breath crawling back down her chest, so she takes a deep breath to chase away the resulting ache.

She can’t wait to be in Niall’s arms again. She hasn’t felt their strong hold on her waist ever since the hijack. He had hugged her, but his hold had been careful, not tight enough because he had been afraid to hurt her. Niall had held her like she was made of porcelain because she always flinched away from his touch.

But things are different now. Now Demi can’t wait for her boyfriend to touch her again of instead of being afraid of him being too near her. She has worked on her issues while she was in rehab and she now feels more comfortable in her own skin. She isn’t as afraid anymore as she had been when she got here.

Demi takes another deep breath and opens her eyes again. A smile appears on her face as she starts walking and her confidence starts growing. As soon as she sees Niall, she’s going to say to him that everything is okay now. She still needs to work on a few things, but she’s on the road to recovery now. He can stop treating her as something fragile.

While Demi waits inside the lift as it descends to ground level, her phone rings, signaling she’s got a text. Demi takes the phone out of her front pocket and opens the text without having looked at who send it. She knows it’s Niall, telling her he has arrived.

Demi is right. The text is from Niall.

**I’m in the lobby. Are you already downstairs or do I have to come to your room.**

**I’m in the lift. I’m on my way 2 u,**  Demi sends back.

When the doors of the lift finally open, Demi is greeted with the sight of a grinning Niall who opens his arms for her to fall into. And that is what she does, bag and all. He lets out a soft umph as she bumps into his chest.

Niall puts his arms around her waist but it isn’t tight enough. “I’m not made of porcelain. You can hold me tighter,” Demi whispers into his ears. She pulls Niall closer herself and after a few beats Niall does the same. A sight of contentment escapes Demi at the feeling of being held like this again.

“I missed you,” Niall whispers hoarsely in Demi’s ear. His breath tickles her ear and she can’t suppress a smile. She starts to caress Niall’s back with her right hand as Niall continues. “I’m so happy you’re better now. Never, ever hide it when you have a fallback ever again. There isn’t anything you can say that can make me think less of you.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Demi tells Niall, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes and her voice wobbly from the feeling of love for her boyfriend that she can feel coursing through her right now. She really doesn’t understand what she’s done to deserve a boyfriend as wonderful as Niall. “And I missed you too.”

“Good, now let’s go home,” Niall says. He pulls away from the hug and smiles at Demi. She smiles back at him as she lifts her hand to stroke at his cheeks. She can feel the blonde stubble that’s barely visible, rough like sandpaper against the skin of the tips of her fingers.

“Alright.” Demi drops her hand and takes a hold on Niall’s, where they are dangling at his side. Niall laces their fingers together and takes her hand in his.

Demi has to sign some paperwork before they can go, but they are in their car and on the road within fifteen minutes. Niall is driving and Demi is sitting next to him. Their hands are still intertwined.

“How’s Harry doing?” Demi asks Niall. The last thing Niall told about Harry was that the younger boy was making progress and the doctors had been very optimistic about his recovery. That  was a week ago, so maybe Harry is out, like her.

“The doctors told Anne and Gemma yesterday that Harry has to stay a little bit longer.” Niall’s eyes remain on the road, they don’t drift to lock with Demi like they have done during the last topic of conversation. Demi wouldn’t know what Niall things about Harry having to stay longer if it wasn’t for the way the corners of his mouth retreat further up Niall’s cheek, the way they always do when he’s worried.

“Why’s that?” Demi asks when her boyfriend doesn’t provide an explanation for the extension of Harry’s stay in rehab. If he doesn’t tell her, she’s going to have to ask.

“He lied about some of the progress he made, or something of the kind. The doctor wasn’t really forthcoming with the information, with it being confidential and all.” Niall lets out a sigh and drops Demi’s hand for a few seconds so he can run a hand through his hair. Demi’s hand feels cold until Niall’s hand takes its place above hers again.

“I wondered why he did that. Lie.” Demi’s eyes fall on the road that’s stretching out in front of them before they return to Niall’s face. Their eyes lock for a few seconds before he focuses them on the world in front him again. The moment Demi had been able to look in Niall’s eyes was short but it was enough for her to see the fear in them. Niall is scared for Harry, not just worried.

“It’s going to be alright, you know.” Demi’s voice is soft as she draws her hand out from under his and lays it down on his thigh. She gives his leg a squeeze in the hope it will comfort him like her words. “Harry is going to be alright. Harry may be sensitive, but he’s strong as well. With the help of the doctors, he’s going to be alright.”

“I don’t think the doctors will be any help if Harry lies to them.” The knuckles of the hand that’s wrapped around the steering wheel turn white. The car swirls for a few seconds before Niall steadies it again.

“The doctors will tell him that too and he’ll realizes it’s better for him if he’s honest.” Demi hopes she sounds as convinced as she really is. She _does_ believe that harry will come to his senses and she wants Niall to believe that too.

“I hope you’re right, babe.” Niall looks at Demi for a few seconds to smile at her before he turns his eyes on the road again. His knuckles are no longer white.

Demi and Niall arrive home an hour later. Their apartment feels warm and cozy when the couple walks in as if it wants to welcome Demi home.

“What do you want to do today?” Niall asks as he takes Demi’s coat and puts it on the coatrack by the door. “I was thinking we could watch a movie.”

“I would love to watch Valentine’s Day,” Demi replies. “I haven’t seen it in such a long time.” Demi really wants to watch a romantic movie now that she’s reunited with her boyfriend.

“Alright, then. Valentine Day it is.” Niall smiles at Demi. He takes her hand and pulls her towards him, his blue eyes shining with joy and fondness. Demi’s heart begins to beat faster and this time it isn’t out of fear but because she can’t wait to feel Niall’s body close to hers again. Niall kisses the top of her head, the heat of his body bleeding through their clothes. Arousal settles in Demi’s belly and suddenly she knows she wants the night to end naked, between white sheets. She has been afraid of being intimate with Niall for so long but she’s not anymore. She’s ready to be as close with Niall as she had been in the past, again.

It’s than that Demi really realizes that things are going to be okay. She may not be able to go back to her old self but she doesn’t have to be broken. She wants to be a whole person again and for the first time she’s able to believe she can be. With Niall’s and her families help, she’s going to be okay again.

Niall is sweet and careful that night, as he kisses down Demi’s body. He pays careful attention to each shiver that racks her body for any indication she isn’t ready after all. But she is and when he enters her, she doesn’t push him away. Instead she pulls him closer and tells him how good it feels to have him inside her again.

After both have reached their peaks, Niall pulls out. He lays at Demi’s side and puts his arms around her. She leans back into his embrace and closer her eyes in bliss.

Now it really feels like she’s come home.


	14. 14

Louis looks down from where he’s perched on his cloud. His eyes are on a big black car that one of his best mates is driving. Sitting in the backseat is the love of his love, the one he was going to propose to when they were on their holiday. Harry had been the only one he could see himself spending the rest of his life with and he had wanted to make it official.

After he had bought the ring, Louis had gone by Zayn and Liam’s apartment to tell two of his best friends about his plan. Liam had been the only one home at the time, so Louis had had to make do with only telling Liam.

Liam had told him he thought it was a bit early to already think about marriage, but if that’s what Louis wanted, Liam would support him. He had promised Louis he would help him with finding a good way to propose to Harry.

But Louis hadn’t been able to put their plan into action because one of the people that wanted to become the next prime minister, decided he wanted people to hijack a train so he could prove to the people that crime was growing rampant and he was the only one who would be able to put a stop to it. One of the other angels had told him when Louis had told him about how he died. No longer a human anymore, Louis hadn’t been angry. The only emotion he had felt was sadness and regret that his death had been to further someone else’s ambition.

Louis had died, trying to stop the hijackers from shooting Harry if the government didn’t adhere to their demands. At first he had tried to convince them to use him as leverage instead of Harry but the hijacker had refused and Louis had become desperate. He hadn’t thought and had tried to wrestle the gun from one of the hijackers. He lost his life in the attempt.

The months after his death, Louis had existed as a ghost. In his translucent form, he had stayed on Harry’s side while his boyfriend had tried to deal with his death. Harry had tried to find solace in booze and Louis had been unable to stop him. At times, Harry had been able to see flashes of Louis because of his alcohol idled brain but Harry had always believed Louis had been a hallucination.

When Harry had gone to rehab, Louis had traveled with him. He had hoped that with the help of the doctors, Harry would be able to move on and with him, Louis as well. Because as long as Harry refused to move on, Louis couldn’t move on from his ghost form either.

A fellow ghost who was staying at the rehab, had taught Louis to travel into dreams. After a few futile attempts, Louis had finally been able to enter Harry’s dream. Touching Harry again, after being unable to do so for months because of his ghost form, had broken Louis’s heart because he knew it would the last time he would be able to. Harry hadn’t seen the pain because he had been too consumed with his own.

Louis had told him about his planned proposal in the hope it would make Harry believe that it was really him and that what he was about to say was really his wish. Louis told him he should ask Liam and if he told him it was indeed true, he should let their friends in like Louis wishes he would. Niall, Zayn, Liam and he needed each other to help each other heal.

The next time Liam and the other boys had visited, Harry had asked him. Liam had looked at him with shock and surprise written all over his face. Louis had indeed planned to propose to Harry. Had Harry eavesdropped or something? Why was he bringing it up now?

Instead of telling about the dream, Harry had lied to Liam that he had indeed eavesdropped on them but he had forgotten about it because of the hijack. He had come back to him last night but he hadn’t been sure if it had been a memory or a dream. That’s why he asked.

After Harry had told his best mates this white lie, Louis had felt something tug at him and before he knew it he was standing in front of a gate, his form suddenly solid again.

The gate keeper had told him he was going to be an angel. Because he sacrificed himself to save another, he was rewarded with an awesome set of white wings – Louis’s words, not the gate keeper. The old man had been far too formal to ever use the word awesome.

And now Louis is sitting here, on his own personal cloud, looking down as Harry and his best mates drive down the high way as they take Harry back home. Harry still looks a little bit sad but Louis can also see Harry has found peace. The sadness doesn’t seem to be carved into his soul any longer. He has already started to heal from the wound Louis’s death has brought him.

Louis no longer has to see Harry fade away with misery. He doesn’t have to fear Harry will join him on here in the near future. Instead, he knows he can look forward to Harry finding joy in life. Maybe he’ll get married and have the children he’s always wanted.

Louis can’t wait. Chasing your own happiness may be something great but seeing someone you love be happy is so much better.


End file.
